The Nature of The Stars
by dorkickassmeadowes
Summary: "I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend" J.R.R Tolkien
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. **

* * *

_Captain of the bloody Quidditch team_. She, Andromeda Black, was going to be Captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team.

_Blimey_.

"Darling, this is an excellent opportunity for you, you know," her mother told her as they ate breakfast, "there'll be all sorts of chances for you to meet eligible young men if you're in Quidditch circles."

"Mother," Andromeda replied, pouring pumpkin juice into a very thin glass that she was pretty sure was made in the fifteenth century, "I really don't see what eligible young men has got to do with my being Captain."

"That's because you're an idiot," Bellatrix waltzed into the dining hall, "isn't she, Mummy?"

"Bella, don't call your sister an idiot, please," Mrs. Black said sharply, turning to her second born daughter, "Where is Cissy?"

"Trying to do her hair, she says it won't stay flat. Bimble, pour me pumpkin juice," Bellatrix sat across from Andromeda, and waved a hand at the house elf that was scurrying around in silence.

"Bella, you don't need a house elf to pour you a drink, do it yourself," Andromeda rolled her eyes.

"Bimble's job is to serve me, and who am I to stop her doing her job- Bimble, stop there, it'll overflow- Rodolphus wants to meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at two, Mother, can I?"

"Well," Mrs. Black laid down her knife and fork, and the house elf took her plate away, "I don't think it's really very appropriate for an underage girl like you to be cavorting in a public house..."

"Why not? I'm perfectly capable of holding my own, Mother, and-"

"It's not about that, dear, it's about how people might take adva-"

"Father would let me go!"

There was a silence, and Andromeda sipped her juice in an attempt to break the awkwardness. It didn't work.

"Your father," Mrs. Black said slowly and coldly, after what seemed like an age, "is no longer here, Bellatrix. It's about time you remembered that."

"Sorry, Mother," Bellatrix mumbled. Andromeda put her glass down noisily (not on purpose, I must add, she just happened to be quite clumsy) and all eyes were on her. She cleared her throat.

"I could go with her..."

"Nonsense," her mother replied, standing, "two underage girls in a public house famous for the number of Mudbloods and whores that pass through its doors? No, darlings, I don't think that will be happening."

"But Mother," Bellatrix's voice was low, and Andromeda could tell that she was quite desperately trying to hold in her anger, "I _promised_."

"You'll just have to break that promise then, won't you?" Mrs. Black said shortly, "Bimble, clear the plates. Be by the fire in ten minutes, girls. I'll go and get Narcissa."

"Yes, Mother..." the Black sisters (well, two of them) mumbled.

Mrs. Black strode from the room, and Bellatrix and Andromeda looked at each other.

"You and Rodolphus..." Andromeda said slowly, "are you...?"

"Are we what?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," Bellatrix snapped, "no, I'm afraid I don't."

"Are you shagging Rodolphus Lestrange, Bella?"

"NO!" she shrieked, "I am _fifteen_, Andromeda, _fifteen_! I am not 'shagging', as you so charmingly put it, _anyone_."

"Well, maybe you're not shagging him, certainly, but are you...y'know, _a thing_?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Bellatrix hissed at her sister, "is my best friend. Nothing more. Are we clear?"

Andromeda simply raised her eyebrows. Rodolphus and Bella had been friends for years, despite the two year age gap, but the older girl had always got the feeling that there was _something more_. Apparently not, though. With a sigh, she stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To get my coat, it'll be cold in London."

"Get Bimble to do it."

"Bella," Andromeda resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "Bella, you can do things for yourself, you know."

"Oh, I know," Bellatrix replied haughtily, "I just choose not to."

* * *

Diagon Alley. August, in the year nineteen seventy two. It was cold, because it was England, and England is nearly always cold, even in summer. The sisters Black, and their mother, usually parted crowds, and today was no exception.

"Now remember, girls," Mrs. Black told them as they walked through the street, "we're here for business, not pleasure. No going off for fun, we have things to do. Do I make myself clear?"

Narcissa and Andromeda murmured replies, but Bellatrix was silent.

"_Bellatrix_?"

"_Yes, mother,_" she smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

Andromeda grabbed her sister's arm. "Bella," she whispered into the younger girl's dark hair, "please. Please, not today."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at her, and pulled her arm out of Andromeda's grip. "Cissy, come with me to Flourish and Blotts?"

Cissy, pretty little Cissy with her blonde hair and blue eyes, glanced around. "Mummy said not to run off, Bella..."

"Mummy says a lot of things, let's go. We can go, can't we?" Bellatrix asked her mother, who was examining some jewellery on a market stall.

"What-? Oh, yes, yes, off you go. Business though."

"Yes, Mother," Bella smiled sweetly, "Business."

And she and Cissy ran off, arms linked and hair flying behind them, and Andromeda was all alone.

"Dromeda?" her mother asked, "aren't you going with them?"

"I don't really fancy it, to be honest," Andromeda sighed, and in truth she didn't. Bellatrix and Narcissa had something she didn't, and whenever she was around them, she felt the lack of whatever it was more keenly than ever.

"Well if you're not going with them, darling," Mrs. Black held a necklace up to the light, "you can come with me to Madam Malkins, I need new dress robes."

And Andromeda Black agreed.

* * *

There are things in this life, decisions, which shape our entire futures. This sounds like a cliché, but clichés, dear reader, are overused for a reason. _Because they are true_. And Andromeda Black agreeing to go to Madam Malkins' shop was one such decision.

The doorbell made a _ding_ noise as they entered. Madam Malkin, a tiny witch with spiky brown hair, was bustling around a tall (and handsome) blonde boy, who Andromeda recognised but did not know the name of, stood on a stool.

"Ah," Madam Malkin clucked, "Mrs. Black! I'll be with you in a moment; I'm just fixing up Mr. Tonks here!" And she gestured to the boy, who winked at Andromeda (and Andromeda blushed)

"Tonks?" Mrs. Black turned to her eldest, "I don't recognise that name? Is he in your year?"

Andromeda, momentarily distracted by this Tonks boy's cheekbones, did not reply.

"_Andromeda_?"

"What-? Oh, sorry, Mother, urm, yeah, yeah I think he's a Hufflepuff?"

Mrs. Black hmmm-ed and then said "Half blood?"

Andromeda had to tear her eyes away from the Tonks boy and the way his hair flopped into his eyes, to say "Mother, I honestly don't know. People don't walk around with their blood status on badges you know."

Mrs. Black sniffed, "Well, they should. It's good to know who we're mixing with."

Andromeda suppressed a melodramatic sigh. "Mother, those views will get you into trouble one day..."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Black pursed her ruby red lips, "it's everyone's views nowadays," she raised her voice slightly, so that Madam Malkin, still measuring Mr. Tonks' long limbs, could hear her, "Madam Malkin! I don't like to be kept waiting!"

Madam Malkin glanced over, and Andromeda smiled slightly as the dressmaker rolled her eyes.

"Just a moment, Mrs. Black!" she called over, "yes, that'll do, Mr. Tonks. Mind you don't grow any more though!"

The Tonks boy laughed huskily and said "I'll try, Madam, I'll try."

Madam Malkin beamed at him, and he doffed an imaginary cap at her. He turned to leave, and seeing Andromeda's eyes were still on him, winked again.

The eldest Black girl giggled, despite the way her mother sucked in air through her teeth, and made a clucking noise.

The boy swaggered (there really is no other word for it) from the shop, swinging a battered denim jacket over his shoulder.

"Tell me," Andromeda could hear her mother saying, "that boy. Is he a pureblood?"

"I don't see why that should make a difference..." Madam Malkin replied in a clipped tone.

"Well, Madam, you understand-"

"No, Mrs. Black, I'm afraid I don't. Now. Are you here to insult me and my customers, or are you here to get dress robes fitted?"

Mrs. Black made another clucking sound, but stood on the stool Madam Malkin had for customers to be measured on.

The Tonks boy was still stood outside; he was leant against an unlit lamp post.

"Mother," Andromeda asked (_what on earth has come over you Black? Stop right now_), "I see Bella and Cissy coming out of Flourish and Blotts, should I-?"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Black waved her daughter away, "go and get them. Hurry back though, there's a dear."

"Yes, Mother!" Andromeda replied chirpily, and then she left the shop, swinging on the doorframe as she went.

* * *

"Sorry about my mum," she said to him, "she's a bit..."

"S'fine," the Tonks boy replied, not looking at her (he was looking up, she noticed, up to the clouds) "I get it all the time."

"It's awful," she sighed, leaning next to him, "I apologise on behalf of purebloodkind."

"I accept your apology," he chuckled, "on behalf of Mugglebornkind."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I...urm...you're a Hufflepuff, right?"

"Andromeda Black," he laughed, and looked down at her (oh, his eyes were so blue) "I have commentated on your brilliant Quidditch skills for four years now. Are you honestly telling me you didn't recognise my voice?"

Oh, it all made sense now. The charming swagger, the husky chuckle. He'd been narrating her brilliance since third year, cracking jokes and cheering on the underdog, always, because he was a Hufflepuff and that's what they did. Edward Tonks. _What a man_.

"Ted Tonks," she grinned, "it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Miss Black," he stuck out a hand and she shook it, "you're an excellent Chaser by the way."

"You're not too bad a commentator," she responded, and he smirked at her.

"Won't you get lynched for looking at me?" he asked her quietly. Andromeda glanced into the shop window. Her mother had donned the ugliest set of dress robes she had ever seen. They were grey, with puffed sleeves (_who wore puffed sleeves now, honestly?_) and it was made out a kind of ugly snake skin material that made Andromeda want to burn her own eyes out because _nothing she would ever see again would be as ugly as that dress_. Thankfully, her mother's fascination with this monstrosity meant she was not looking out the window, meaning that she could not see that her first born, her eldest daughter, had just shaken hands with- _gasp_- a Muggleborn.

"Nah, she's not noticed."

He grinned, and pulled out a cigarette. "Do you mind?" he asked her.

"Not at all," in all honesty, she relished the smell of something different, something that wasn't pumpkin juice or Narcissa's bloody hair product. He lit it with a Muggle lighter.

"You could just light it with your wand?"

He pulled a face. "Trust me, Chaser," Ted told her, "you don't want to try that."

"You speak from experience, Commentator?"

"Oh yes. I mean, you'd think," he said, waving the cigarette around (and the ash flew into the air, and glimmered like broken stars) "that they wouldn't be able to detect underage magic here, but _oh no_, I do one bloody Flame Charm and Millicent bloody Bagnold's written a thirteen page essay to my mother and hand delivered it by the time I've even half smoked the fag!"

She laughed.

"Sorry," but his lips were stretched into a smile, "sorry, you didn't want to listen that rant, did you?"

"Mr Tonks," Andromeda said, (and she couldn't quite help feeling like this was _meant _to happen, that she was meant to start a conversation with a strange blonde boy who her mother didn't want her talking to, else the entire world would implode) "my _middle name _is Rant Listener. I am the Queen of Listening to Rants. I have a palace and a castle and a cape. All I ask in return," he was still smiling, "is that _you_ listen to _mine_."

"Seems like a fair deal," (Ted Tonks couldn't help feeling that way too, that _if he stopped talking to this girl, the world would end_) "rant away."

"I'm pretty sure my little sister's shagging an seventeen year old," she began, "and my other little sister is trapped in fairy world or something, I mean, I'm ninety nine point three percent certain that she couldn't tell you who Minister for Magic is. And my mother, as you saw, is actually evil, and I'm Quidditch Captain, which-"

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm Quidditch Captain, which should mean that I get a reward, right? Or at least some sort of praise because it's an achievement- I beat _Lucius Malfoy _to the title, for Agrippa's sake- but no, my mother uses it as an opportunity to-"

"_Andromeda!_"

They span around. Mrs Black was stood in the doorway of the shop, nostrils flaring and eyes dangerously dark.

Oh.

Bollocks.

Andromeda's face grew hot with embarrassment (_but what exactly was she embarrassed about?)_ and she glanced up at Ted. He was stubbing his cigarette out on the cobbles, and averting his gaze from Mrs Black's death stare.

"Come with me." Mrs Black addressed her daughter, "_now_."

There are things in this life, decisions, which shape our entire futures. This sounds like a cliché, but clichés, dear reader, are overused for a reason. _Because they are true_.

And Andromeda Black's decision to talk to Ted Tonks outside a dressmakers shop was one such decision.


	2. Chapter 2

**disclaimer: yeah, i don't own this. wish i did, though.**

* * *

"You are forbidden to leave your room."

"I understand."

"Not even for meals."

"I understand."

"I am taking away your owl."

"I understand."

"Narcissa will use her."

"I understand."

"Bimble will bring up your meals."

"I understand."

"_Andromeda if you say 'I understand' one more time, I will hex you into next Saturday, do I make myself clear?_"

Silence.

"I understand."

Her mother groaned melodramatically, and clasped her forehead in her bony hands. "Andromeda," she said, "darling. Darling, why must you always be...why...?"

"Why was I talking to that boy?" she was stood by her bed, hands clasped behind her back, and the wireless playing quietly in the background. "Because I like him."

"He," her mother reached out to her, but still Andromeda did not look her in the eye, "is not worthy of you, dearest. He's a Mudblood. He's dirty, and you are clean. Pure, you are a pureblood, darling. You understand that, don't you?"

"I'm well aware of my blood status, thank you, Mother," she said sharply.

"_Then why don't you act like it?_" Mrs Black snapped back. "Bellatrix does. Narcissa, Merlin bless her, does. Both your sisters know what they are, and are proud of it, so why can't you?"

Andromeda caved, and looked into her mother's eyes. "It was only _talking, _Mother, for Circe's sake! I'm not going to marry him! I was having a conversation with a boy who goes to my school, that's not illegal!"

"Well it should be."

"You're pathetic."

"You're being childish, Andromeda," she spat, "I'm going to lock you in."

"Fine," came the response, "fine. Lock me in. Throw away the key, Mother, force me into obeying you, because frankly that's the only way you can get anyone to do anything, isn't it?"

Silence again.

"ISN'T IT?"

Her mother backed away, keeping her black eyes fixed onto her daughter's blue ones. "I don't know what you mean," she said coldly.

"You forced Father into working so hard it killed him-"

"Don't you..."

"You forced Uncle Alphard into marrying that awful Greengrass woman and that killed _her_-"

"Andromeda, I'm warning you..."

"You forced Mr Yaxley into buying shares of Father's business and now Yaxley's got no money because Father died. Because of you, again-"

"ANDROMEDA!"

"TODAY, YOU FORCED BELLATRIX INTO ENDING HER FRIENDSHIP WITH RODOLPHUS," she was bellowing now, and she didn't care, "WHICH IS WHY SHE IS CURRENTLY CRYING HERSELF TO SLEEP-"

"ANDROMEDA DRUELLA BLACK, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO CISSY, BUT I'M PRETTY SURE YOU FORCED HER INTO _SOMETHING _OR ELSE SHE WOULDN'T BE AS ODD AS SHE IS NOW-"

"ANDROMEDA!"

"AND YOU FORCED FLIBBIT INTO KILLING HIS OWN MOTHER! DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN! I MEAN, HOW SICK ARE YOU? FORCING A HOUSE ELF TO KILL IT'S OWN MOTHER? WHICH IS WHY YOUR TEA HAD SALT IN IT, BY THE WAY, EVEN THE HOUSE ELVES HATE YOU. AND NOW YOU'RE FORCING ME INTO-"

And the door slammed shut, and Andromeda was alone.

Right. Right, well, she would have to find some way of entertaining herself whilst locked up. Writing to Sirius (or Carrie, for that matter) was completely out of the question (due to her lack of owl) and besides, did she really want her only conversational partners for the next two weeks to be a house elf and a twelve year old (and Carrie was on holiday, the bitch). Books then?

_What books_? Cissy had taken them all, claiming inheritance.

How about records?

Again, what records? She had a Greatest Hits of YoungWitch (deluxe edition) and a very battered copy of Celestina Warbeck's first single, and that was it. Again, Cissy.

_Claiming inheritance_.

Locked up with no books and no records. _Oh, how marvellous this life is_, she thought bitterly, _how beautiful this world and its inhabitants are. _Perhaps she shouldn't have shouted at her mother?

Or perhaps her mother shouldn't have overreacted.

It was just a conversation, after all. Like she'd said, she wasn't going to marry him. She barely knew him. All she knew was that he smoked, he liked talking about Quidditch and that he had a mother.

And that could be said about so many of the boys in her year.

Not all of them had such lovely cheekbones though.

Not all of them winked like he did.

None of them laughed quite like he did.

It occurred to Andromeda Black then that perhaps she knew more about Ted Tonks than she first thought.

* * *

She was very pretty, Andromeda Black. Not in the darkly mysterious way her sister was (_her fifteen year old sister who was probably shagging Rodolphus Lestrange_) but in a softer, sunnier way. Ted wondered whether she was the only one who they let out into daylight as a child.

The walk back from Diagon Alley went quickly (only took him half a packet of Marlboro Lights), and he found himself wondering whether she was alright. Her mother had looked like some kind of dragon lady, about to eat the prince that dared rescue her princess.

_Come on, Tonks! Princes and princesses? Not a fairy tale._

And even if it was, Ted doubted that he was the white knight. If Andromeda needed rescuing (which, to be fair, she probably didn't. That girl could take on an army and win, quite easily) then it'd be by some good looking Chaser at the Tutshill Tornadoes, not a wannabe sports journalist who held Hufflepuff House's record for Most Chocolate Frogs Consumed In A Minute (six, if you're wondering).

"Mum!" he called as he opened his front door, "Mum, I'm home!"

There was a loud _crash_ and Mrs Tonks half-ran into the long, thin hallway. She was a tall woman, with long dirty blonde hair, and a wide and ready smile. "Teddy, my boy, you're home!" she laughed, and threw her arms around his broad shoulders. "Did you have fun? Did you get everything you needed? The girls have just gone; we've got cake if you're hungry?"

Ted chuckled, and followed his mother into the kitchen. She was talking constantly, telling him about the girls (although they weren't really girls at all, they were middle aged women) and how _hilarious_ it was when Janet fell off the armchair (to be honest, it sounded like one of those you-had-to-be-there moments) and how _awful _it is that Harriet's husband left her for the secretary ("only don't tell anyone, she's horribly embarrassed, though I don't see why, these things _do _happen,") and all about what Diane's daughter was doing at college ("learning to be a hairdresser, you know, it's a useful profession") and she carried on talking whilst she did the dishes and he cut himself the biggest slice of lemon drizzle cake possible.

"I hear that Jennifer O'Flagherty's getting married, isn't that a bit soon? After all, she was the school year below you, wasn't she? Blimey, sixteen and married, makes you think doesn't it? Not judging, of course, she can live her life how she wants to. " his mother rambled, "On the subject of marriage, I saw a beautiful dress in the window of Mrs Jones' shop, almost makes me want to do it all again. Only-" Mrs Tonks threw a dish cloth at her son, "-oi, lazy, help me with the dishes- only, I wouldn't be able to get married in a church, would I? I don't think they do divorcee ceremonies. It'd have to be a registry office affairè, and that's not half as romantic as a church do. What d'you think, Ted?"

He got up with a laugh and a sigh, and picked up the dish cloth that lay on the floor of the kitchen. "You don't have anyone to marry, Mum," he reminded her.

"That is brand new information," she said sarcastically, "honestly Edward, I had no idea that I was as single as...Teddy, what's something that's very single?"

"You?" he suggested with a grin.

"You are a terrible son," she laughed, "you are a terrible, terrible son."

"You're a lousy mother," he quipped back, and picked up a bowl that lay in the sink, "I mean, there's no hot meal on the table! You've not ironed my pants for school! I should telephone the government, get myself taken into care. At least then I'll be looked after properly!"

But he was laughing, and she was too, and the noise that filled that house was joyful and merry.

* * *

The days were beginning to stretch into one long nightmare, and most mornings (and afternoons, come to think of it) Andromeda didn't even get dressed. Sometimes, she would pace her room restlessly, thinking about her reason for being stuck there, thinking about Ted Tonks and his cheekbones, thinking about Quidditch. She was filled with the uncomfortable mixture of anger and sadness that she believed people referred to as 'teenage angst'. _Perhaps_, she thought dryly, _I should start a band, channel my emotions_.

But start a band she did not.

Instead, she alternated between lying on her bedroom floor, watching the sun shine through her window, scribbling down Quidditch strategies on crumpled rolls of parchment, the aforementioned pacing, and sleeping for sixteen hours at a time, getting out of bed only to let Bimble in with her food.

She wondered if hell was like this.

On the very last day of the holidays, exactly three weeks after she was locked in her tower, Andromeda received a visit from her mother. It was one of the days where Andromeda had not left her bed, instead choosing to throw crumpled pieces of parchment into her waste paper basket to numb the boredom. It hadn't been working.

"Andromeda," Mrs Black rapped on the door, "Andromeda, it's your mother. Let me in."

With a sigh, she rose from her cocoon of bedclothes, and promptly tripped on a stray bit of parchment, landing with a thud.

"ANDROMEDA! DID YOU JUST JUMP OUT OF THE WINDOW?"

"No, Mother," she laughed for what seemed like the first time in weeks, and stood shakily. Andromeda opened the door, and Mrs Black stormed in.

"This room is a mess," she began, "Bimble will clean it before you leave."

Andromeda stifled a yawn, and sat on her bed with a _schlump_. "Mother, what was it you wanted?"

"Tomorrow's the first of September," her mother replied shortly, "I just thought you ought to know."

"Wait, tomorrow- tomorrow's- are you _serious_?" She'd had lost track of the days, but it seemed surprising that the end of the holidays had come so soon.

"Yes I am serious," Mrs Black made towards the door, "Flibbit will be in later to pack for you. I'll see you in the morning. We leave at ten."

"Mother," she said quickly, (_dammit Black she doesn't deserve your apologies_) "I am really, _really _sorry."

Druella Black looked at her daughter, really looked at her, for what seemed to be the first time in ages. She was pretty, with soft features and glossy chestnut hair. Even three weeks locked up had done nothing to diminish the way her blue eyes shone in the sunlight. _She would be such a perfect pureblood bride_, Druella thought bitterly, _if only she wasn't so...so...so fiery_.

With an affected sniff, she left.

And Andromeda's heart broke a little.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: still don't own it. **

* * *

Platform 9, King's Cross Station. A bright, sunny morning, at exactly ten to ten.

History was about to be made.

Ted Tonks and his mother were killing time before the train departed, by promenading down the platform, arm in arm, singing at the tops of their voices with the sole intention of annoying the commuters.

"People think we're mad, Mum," Ted laughed at the end of _I Wanna Hold Your Hand_, "they'll call the nut house on us."

"People, people, I'm sick of hearing about bloody people!" his mother declared, throwing her hands in the air with mock desperation, "Edward, what have I always told you?"

"Always eat your broccoli?"

"Close, but no..."

"Always say please and thank you?"

"Still no..."

He was teasing her now, teasing his dear old mum. "Care about no one's opinion but your own?"

"Thank you!" she cried, grabbing his arm again and linking it with her own, "Care about _no one's opinion but your own_. And then you can be free, see?"

"I think you took too many drugs in the sixties, Mum," he laughed.

"Don't be cheeky, Ted! I was raising you in the sixties thank you very much; I had no time for drugs!" but she smiled, and clutched his arm tighter, trying not to think of that dreaded moment when the train pulled away, pulling her son with it, and leaving her all alone again. "How about a bit of Joplin, my boy? What d'you think?"

Ted laughed, and glanced around him. The commuters seemed surprised by this tall pair, so obviously related with their messy blonde hair and red-as-roses lips. "They don't seem to be much of a Joplin crowd, Mum..." he thought for a moment, "P'raps another Beatles song?"

"Right you are, darling," she said seriously, and then cleared her throat. "Early or late?"

"I'm thinking Sergeant Pepper, but not the Sergeant Pepper song itself?"

"Good call," she tightened the belt on her coat, and drew herself up to her full height (five foot nine, if you're interested), "_I read the news today, oh boy..._"

And the commuters getting on the Platform-Nine-five-to-ten-to-Bristol-Temple-Meads watched as the strange looking mother and son muddled their way through _A Day In The Life _with smiles on their faces and a spring in their step.

_This was not the history about to be made_.

* * *

Andromeda leant against the mantelpiece in the drawing room, feeling as out of place as a sunflower in the snow, and waiting for her sisters. It was strange to be out of her room, to be able to wander the corridors of the grand house, or to hide in the alcoves with a book taken from Cissy's room. Alas, she had barely any time to get used to it before the great grandfather clock in the Entrance Hall struck five to ten, and she hurried to the drawing room. Her mother was sat in a very tall armchair, black satin with snakes stitched into the back. It always made Andromeda feel uncomfortable, that chair; she could feel the snake's eyes on her. She'd expressed this fear as a small child, and her mother had laughed cruelly, and made her sit in it all evening. She _said _it was so that Andromeda could see it was just a chair, but privately Andromeda thought it was so that the guests at the party could laugh at her ridiculous fear. It still stung.

Mrs Black sat there, embroidering some kind of bed cover, and keeping one watchful eye on the clock that sat on the mantelpiece.

Eventually, Andromeda spoke. "Where are Bella and Cissy?"

"Late," her mother replied, not looking at her, "obviously. Did Flibbit bring your trunk down?"

She nodded, and gestured to the wooden box that lay on the floor by her side, covered in tiny little _ADB_s. "Should I go and get them?" she asked, "Bella and Cissy that is?"

"I wish you wouldn't wear Muggle clothes, darling," her mother said, ignoring her question, "it degrades you."

Andromeda Black had heard many stupid things in her life.

A third year called Bertha Jorkins had once told her that if you eat dragon dung, you live forever.

She'd heard that Professors McGonagall and Beery had been engaged, and the whole reason he left was because she broke off said engagement (_a lie, he went to teach at W.A.D.A)_.

Narcissa swore blind that if you could hold your breath for longer than a minute, the Ministry of Magic officially recognised you as a merperson.

Lucius Malfoy said there were Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest.

But this, this _dressing as a Muggle degrades you_, had to take the absolute Ginger Newt.

She counted to ten in her head, to make sure she didn't snap (snapping would only make it worse), and said "Mother, I don't see what's degrading about it; it's comfortable, and it doesn't attract attention."

"It's making you pretend you're something you're not," her mother responded, setting down her embroidery, "you're a pureblood witch, Andromeda, not some..._nothing_."

"Muggles aren't nothing, Mother," she said calmly (although her insides were boiling with rage) "they're people too."

"They're not magic!" her mother replied sternly, "What can they do if they're not magic!"

"Loads of things..." she tried desperately to remember what Professor Spinnet had said, about electrics and plugs, "they can do loads of things, Mother!"

But Druella wasn't listening. "And as for those _Mudbloods _you have to attend school with, well...I'd pull you out if I didn't know that nowhere else could educate you as well as Hogwarts can! Beauxbatons is all well and good, but..." she gestured, as if she expected Andromeda to understand what she meant. Andromeda pulled a puzzled face.

"You know what I mean, darling...they're...they're French, and they have a totally different culture to British wizards- did you know they let them drink wine at the dinner table? _School children! Drinking wine! _Of course, your Aunt thinks it's all wonderfully sophisticated, but it doesn't sit right with me. It's almost as bad as you having to share meals with Mudbloods, dear, I-"

"_Sorry?_" Andromeda was agog, "_What did you just say?_"

"I said it's almost as bad as you having to share meals with Mudbloods," her mother replied airily, "hones-"

"Because I can 'catch' it, can't I?" she laughed coldly, "Because eating food with a Mudblood makes me a Mudblood, right?"

"No darling, that's not what I meant," her mother seemed surprised by the reaction, like her bigotry was something that Andromeda was not supposed to pick up on.

"What was it supposed to mean?" she was practically shrieking now _and oh how those decorum lessons were wasted on her_.

"It was just an offhand comment, darling, no need to get stressed..."

"NO NEED TO GET STRESSED?" _Fuck decorum, _she thought, "MOTHER DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW _IGNORANT _YOU SOUND? Being Muggleborn makes you _no different to anyone else_; did no one ever tell you that?"

"Of course it does!" it was a full on battle now, Mrs Black was on her feet, "Of course being Muggleborn makes you different! I knew we shouldn't have let you take those damned Muggle Studies lessons, I knew they would change you, that they would warp your mind!"

"_Warp my mind_?" Andromeda shouted, "Warp my-? Oh Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, you really are one of the most...you're an idiot. An actual idiot." she flung her hands in the air, exasperated, and sat on her trunk with a sigh.

Her mother still stood, watching her. "Do not," she said, "speak to me like that. Ever."

Andromeda looked at Druella, blue eyes boring into black. "Why? Because you're _not_ an idiot? I think we have just proved that you are."

"Andromeda..."

"It's bad enough that you locked me up all summer, now you want me to be alright with your stupid, outdated views? Really?"

"Andromeda..." Mrs Black resisted the urge to draw her wand.

"I know Bella keeps saying that the purebloods will rise again and whatnot, but it's just a fad going around school, there's no substance doing it, all it is, is a few bits of rubbish graffiti and the odd duel between fifth years, it's hardly a revolution-"

"ANDROMEDA!" her mother shouted over her daughter's rant. The girl rolled her eyes.

The silence was deafening.

_This was not the history about to be made_.

* * *

Ten o'clock in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time, September the first nineteen seventy one. Andromeda Black, still fuming from her fight with her mother, slouched behind her family as they walked- nay, glided- into King's Cross Station. Cissy was chattering nineteen to the dozen with Bellatrix, about the silly twelve year old things that occupy the mind of silly twelve year olds. Bellatrix was nodding sympathetically, but Andromeda noticed that she was keeping one eye on the crowd, as if she was watching for something- or someone. Their mother was marching ahead, gazing at everyone with disdain. She looked, Andromeda thought, like she permanently had dog muck under her nose.

They'd Side Along-Apparated there, clutching arms and praying that they wouldn't get Splinched. _This time next year, _she thought to herself, _this time next year I'll be able to go on my own, I won't have to tag along with these cretins_.

A little cruel, though, to call Cissy a cretin. She lived in fairy land, in a world that could not be tainted by pureblood fanaticism, or ignorant mothers. Andromeda envied her.

In the distance, the girls and their mother could hear the chimes of Big Ben.

"This is ridiculous, Mother." Bellatrix said, "Why on Earth did we have to get here so damned _early_?"

"So you can get the best seats, darling," Mrs Black replied, with a wave of a thin hand, "come along."

Bellatrix and Narcissa ran to follow their mother, who had stormed ahead, as regal and as frightening as ever.

Andromeda, on the other hand, fell behind, dragging her boots as she went. She kept her eyes fixed on the cold concrete floor, concentrating on the cracks and the stains and the scuff marks of eternity's feet. She tread the path she'd walked what felt like a gazillion times before, across the bridge and down into Platform Nine, her thoughts happening too fast and too frequently for her to understand them. Bellatrix was in love with Rodolphus; or perhaps she wasn't, perhaps they were just friends? Merlin, she missed Carrie, she could tell Carrie everything, everything about what had happened at Diagon Alley, and Ted Tonks. Ted Tonks' cheekbones...Ted Tonks and his husky chuckle, Ted Tonks' floppy hair and his battered denim jacket, Ted Tonks- _WHAM_!

Andromeda was sent flying, and she landed, sprawled on the concrete, arms outstretched.

"Oh blimey," she heard a voice say, "oh blimey bollocking bugger, I am so, so sorry, Chaser, seriously, I-"

_Ted Tonks_, she thought, _what a man_.

She opened her eyes as slowly as she possibly could, for fear of concussion (she wasn't concussed, all was well) and there he was, towering above her and a hand outstretched. She took it gratefully, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Seriously," he said, still clutching her hand, "I am so, _so _sorry."

"No," she cleared her throat, and brushed the dust and grime from her tights, "no, honestly, Ted, it was my fault; I wasn't looking where I was going..."

"Neither was I!" And he laughed loudly, and the sound of his laughter caused her to smile despite the fact her back was most probably bruised, and her skirt had a rip in it. Ted let go of Andromeda's hand and they began to walk in a comfortable silence, the kind when you've just laughed an awful lot and the air is still filled with the echo of it.

"So..." she said eventually, when the echo had gone and they were nearing the entrance to 9 and 3/4, "sixth year...big deal, huh?"

He shrugged, and Andromeda was surprised by his nonchalance. "Last year was more important," he told her, shoving his hands in his pockets, "how'd'you do, by the way, in the OWLs?"

"Um..." she debated telling him the truth, which was seven Os and an E, because her mother was constantly telling her that _good pureblood men were not going to marry annoying know it alls_, but perhaps Ted Tonks wasn't like those good pureblood men? There was, of course, only one way to find out.

"I got seven Os and an E," she told him, "highest marks in Slytherin House."

"Impressive," he let out a low whistle, "very impressive, Chaser."

"Thanks," she smiled, "what about you?"

He seemed bashful, and looked away from her. "Urm...eight Os, actually..."

Of course he had, she thought with a grin, of course this wonderfully good looking and funny boy was ridiculously intelligent as well. _Of bloody course_.

"Flawless Ted Tonks, eh?" she chuckled, "Are you actually perfect?"

"You sound like my mum," he glanced at her with a smirk, "don't take that the wrong way or anything."

"Ah," they bumped shoulders and Andromeda thought that her arm had a galaxy exploding on it, such was the weird tingly sensation she felt, "so you're a mother's boy? Aha! I knew there was _something_!"

"Nothing wrong with being a mother's boy, Chaser!" he grinned, "She's um...she's probably my best mate, actually..." and he laughed nervously, and scratched the back of his neck.

"That's sweet," Andromeda said carefully (_but to be honest, she couldn't understand how one's parent could be one's friend_) "my mother...as you have seen, my mother is probably Ellert the Evil reincarnated, so we don't..." she trailed off.

"You don't get on," he finished for her, and she smiled up at him gratefully, "it's cool, I get it. People have difficult relationships with their parents; I'm kind of a minority."

"I bet it's nice though," she sighed, and he nodded.

"Yeah, it's...well, it's...it's just me and her, so it'd be difficult if we hated each other."

"I see," it was like all the stars were aligning, as they wandered up the platform, bumping shoulders and smiling at each other, "I lost my dad too..."

"What?" he seemed so surprised (_oh bollocking shit you have fucked things up now Black, you have royally ruined any chance of being mates with this beautiful boy you absolute fucking idiot_) "Oh, no, Chaser, my dad's not dead!" he laughed shakily, and she wandered if all was not lost, "No, he's, urm, he's just an arsehole. He...he left, let's just say that."

"Oh. Sorry."

"I'm over it."

She had no idea what to say next..._ask him about Quidditch, Black, go on_ "Are you still commentating this year?"

He smirked at her sudden change of subject; nearly everyone did, of course, not wanting to make it awkward for him. Which was ridiculous, because if it made him feel awkward, _he wouldn't have bloody mentioned it_.

"Yeah," he told her, "yeah, that's the plan. If McGonagall will let me, you know, that woman's pretty freaking fierce when it comes to games."

"My littlest sister- Narcissa, she's just going into her second year- she calls her the Dragon Lady."

Ted laughed, though there wasn't much funny about it. "Brilliant," he grinned, "I'll have to start calling her that myself."

"Don't get into too much trouble, though, Tonks," she warned him playfully, "you don't want to be thrown out of the commentator's box! I quite enjoy having you narrating my brilliance."

"You're modest, aren't you!" he laughed, and she smiled mockingly, "in all seriousness though, Chaser," he cleared his throat, and looked at the floor, almost as if he were embarrassed, "I quite enjoy narrating your brilliance."

"Good," and she winked at him (_where in Circe's name had this confidence come from?_) "See you on the train?" She gestured to the gateway, currently full of Longbottoms (she could see Augusta, an old foe of her mother's, shrieking at Frank for losing his toad).

"I'd love to...Andromeda," he glanced at her, and noticed that her eyes were bluer than his, "are we mates now?"

She looked up at him, with a sad half-smile as she thought of her dratted mother and words like _Mudblood _and _purity _and _honour _and _nobility _and _toujours fucking pur_, and she said, "Yeah, Ted. I think we're mates."

_History had been made._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: oh wow thank you so much for the fab reviews i love you all a lot!**

**Disclaimer: i own nothing (except maybe carrie, but even then, that's pushing it...)**

* * *

"Where were you?" Bellatrix snapped at her when she reached them on Platform 9 and ¾, "We've been waiting for ages!"

"Bumped into a friend…" Andromeda brushed it off, "and on that note – Mother, I see Carrie, can I-?"

"Shacklebolt?" her mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How many other Carries do you know?" she rolled her eyes, "Bella, there's Rodolph-"

She stopped mid-sentence, noticing how Bellatrix looked like she was going to cry. "Nothing," she said quickly, "nothing, there's nothing, sorry."

Bellatrix blinked rapidly, and Andromeda could tell she was getting rid of all those damned tears that clogged her eyes.

"Can I go?" she asked her mother quickly, "Please?"

"Yes, yes, dear," her mother waved her off, "see you at Christmas," and she patted her daughter's arm with forced affection. As Andromeda walked away, she heard Druella shouting at strange men to help her with the trunks.

* * *

Carrie was waiting for her, as she always was, by the entrance to Carriage 6A, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

"Hello, fuckwit," she smirked, "you took your time."

"Ah," Andromeda grinned, "_Carrie_ by a _carriage_."

"Bitch."

"Nice to see you too, Shacklebolt," she climbed aboard the train, inhaling in that delicious scent of sweets and leather and ink and _home_. Carrie laughed and followed her in, and together they wandered the carriage, looking for a compartment.

"How was your summer?" Andromeda asked when they finally found one that didn't have snogging fourth years or a gazillion twelve year olds in it, "Was Paris nice?"

"Paris is beautiful, always," Carrie told her, sitting down, "Kingsley brought along his girlfriend though- _nightmare_- she's such a stuck up bitch, Ands, honestly. We went to the Louvre, right, and the place is gorgeous, bloody beautiful, full of the best paintings in the world, and the bitch spends the entire thing _moaning about how it was all the same, and how boring they all were!_ Some people cannot appreciate beauty, Andromeda, and that saddens me, it really does!"

_Dear, dear Carrie_. "Well," the eldest Black sister swung her legs onto the seat beside her, claiming her territory, "I think I can trump you shitty family stories wise."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep," Andromeda nodded, "let me tell you about Diagon Alley…"

* * *

"TONKS!" Tony Fawcett roared, "TONKS, MATE, YOU'RE ALIVE!"

"You sound surprised," Ted laughed, as he was nearly knocked over by Tony's ferocious hug, "Mum, urm, Mum, this is Tony. Tony. My mother."

"Are you Cake Boy?" Mrs Tonks asked curiously, handing her son his bag.

"Yeah, he is," Ted chuckled, "Can't get enough of the stuff, can you, Tone?"

"Sod off."

"_Language_, _you're in the presence of a lady_."

"Piss off," Mrs Tonks laughed, "I've heard much worse words than 'sod' in my time, boy," and then, to Tony, "I'll remember that you're cake boy, lovely, and I'll send Ted some with that dratted owl of his-"

"Oi! Perseus is not a 'dratted owl', he's a much loved member of this family!"

"It's a bloody owl, son!" she cackled, "Tell him, Cake Boy, tell him it's only an owl!"

Tony (or 'Cake Boy' as he will be known as hereafter) glanced at Ted, who raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I know, Mum," Ted laughed, "I know he's just an owl."

"Perseus knows I don't mean it, don't you?" Mrs Tonks remarked to the caged bird, "Oh God, Teddy darling, it's half ten, if you don't get on you won't find a seat!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mum-" he began, but Tony interrupted him.

"Nah, your mum's right, mate – the carriage'll be full soon, best hurry up if we don't want to end up sitting with second years."

Ted nodded, and looked across to his mum, who was smiling at him, tears glazing her green eyes. Andromeda's words came back to him, _mother's boy_.

"I'll be off then," she said with a feigned cheerfulness, "see you at Christmas, my boy."

And she leant over, and kissed his cheek, and a tear dropped off her nose and landed on the concrete, like so many mothers tears had done before her.

"See you, Mum," he held her tightly, his mum, knowing that she would be alone now, for the next three months. It broke his heart.

"Love you," she pulled away with a sad smile.

Mrs Tonks flashed a grin at Cake Boy, and waved at her son. And her son waved back as she hurried along the platform, knocking over Molly Weasley (seeing her brothers off), and the Longbottoms, and nearly going head first into the McKinnons' trunks.

"So," Ted sighed, trying to disguise the fact that his voice was thick with tears, "how was your summer?"

Tony grinned wickedly. "I have so much to tell you, kid," he swung his arm over Ted's shoulder, "_so very much to tell you_."

There are things in this life, decisions, which shape our entire futures. This sounds like a cliché, but clichés, dear reader, are overused for a reason. _Because they are true_.

And Andromeda Black agreeing to meet Ted Tonks on the train was one such decision.

It was late, and the sun was setting, causing a pink glow to cover the train and all its inhabitants. Ted was stood by the window at the end of Carriage 5B, smoking a Marlboro Light, and flicking the ash onto the track. He was alone; everyone else was in a compartment. Tony had eaten his own body weight in cake bought from the trolley, before falling asleep on Uriah Turner's shoulder.

He was thinking about his mum, and how she'd cried when he left. And about how Andromeda wasn't close to her mother at all, and how unfair that was, because, evil or not, her mother had given birth to her, and it saddened him that people never realised the _enormity _of that. He was pondering this, as well as thinking that perhaps it was time to get a pipe, that cigarettes just weren't cutting it anymore, when the door at the other end of the carriage slid open, and he heard a sound he would later consider his favourite in the world; the tip-tap of Andromeda Black's footsteps coming towards him, a symphony composed of two beats and all every droplet of water in the ocean. Of course, he didn't think that just yet, having only been her friend for approximately seven hours.

* * *

"Commentator," she called, and he spun around (and the ash fell from the cigarette like it had the first time they spoke, and still it glimmered like broken stars) "fancy seeing you here."

He chuckled, and she joined him at the window, watching the clouds whizz past. "Chaser," he said, "how's tricks?"

"Left my best friend asleep on Isis Parkinson, you?"

"Left my best friend asleep on Uriah Turner."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. _Ridiculous_.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Andromeda said when silence fell again, looking out the window at the purple glow of the setting sun.

"Makes you think…" Ted replied, with a sad half-smile on his face.

"About what?"

"Everything. And nothing."

"Closet philosopher Ted Tonks," she laughed, "why aren't you a Ravenclaw?"

"Because," he sighed, and turned around so that he was leaning against the window frame, "my mother raised me on a diet of lemon drizzle cake and principles, and that's basically Hufflepuff in a nutshell. You?"

"Black. Slytherin."

"Family tradition, is it?"

"Something like that. My baby cousin's starting this year- Sirius- yeah, anyway, if he doesn't get in, which he will, I've never met anyone so determined in my whole life- but if he doesn't, then I reckon my aunt might _actually _drink the Draught of Living Death."

"Sounds painful."

She laughed. "Yeah, and over the top. I mean, there's no house system for life, is there?"

"True," he said, "very true. What's your plan, for the real world? I mean, have you got any?"

She sighed. "Mother wants me to get married and have a gazillion pure blood children, Carrie wants me to move to Rome with her and start an artist's colony, Slughorn reckons I should try out for the Holyhead Harpies, _McGonagall_said I'd be better suited for Puddlemere United, Bella thinks I sh-"

"No," he said sternly, "I asked what _your _plans are."

It might surprise you, dear reader, but no one had ever asked Andromeda Black that before.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: copyright JoRo. **

* * *

Summer seemed to melt into autumn without anyone really noticing it, the leaves that fell off the trees lying on the cold hard ground of the Quidditch pitch and the beach by the Black Lake. Nothing really of note happened (_except that Sirius Black became the first Black to not go into Slytherin house for six hundred years, but that's barely a footnote in this story and a main plot point in another_) until the night of Hallowe'en; Andromeda Black had tried to keep an eye on her sisters, Bellatrix had made second years cry, Ted Tonks winked at Slytherin's Quidditch Captain every time he saw her. Carrie Shacklebolt had a date with the seventh year Ravenclaw (and absolute knob) Augustus Rookwood, and so Andromeda Black wandered up to the feast alone, humming an old Goblins track and thinking about Wronski Feints.

Tony Fawcett had a detention with Professor Sprout, having been caught selling Gillyweed to fourth years, and so Ted Tonks meandered up to the feast alone, the riff of that new Bowie song that he didn't know the name of stuck in his head, wondering what was for pudding.

They came across each other outside Classroom 5, just down the corridor from the Great Hall.

"Chaser," Ted smiled at her, and she bobbed in a mock-curtsey. He laughed, and they began to walk side by side, their shoulders bumping as they talked.

"How's tricks?" he asked her.

"My sister made a second year cry last week," she told him, "and Carrie has a date with an arsehole, but apart from that...I'm flying without a broomstick. You?"

"Oh, I'm _grand_, Chaser," he grinned, "just grand. Marks are good, Mum's good, Tony's selling Gillyweed but it's nothing I can't handle. All is well, Andromeda."

"Bully for you," she laughed, "Commentating on Saturday?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. How's your Keeper?"

"Why d'you ask?" she wondered.

"Ravenclaw's new Chaser- Emmeline Vance. Pretty, brunette, kind of looks like a princess?"

"_Stately_, my sister calls her."

"Yeah, her. She'll eat Flint alive, mark my words."

"Well," Andromeda looked up, and the blue of his eyes made her catch her breath, "we'll just have to make sure she doesn't ever get the Quaffle then, won't we?"

* * *

"And that's Andromeda Black with the Quaffle, look at that girl go! She dodges Vance- don't look so down about it, Emmeline!- she misses Boot's Bludger- well done, Andromeda!- and she looks like she's going to shoot, will she, will she? Come on, Black! Come on, come on, and...and...SHE SHOOTS, SHE SCORES! IT'S ANOTHER GOAL TO SLYTHERIN! THE SERPENTS LEAD SEVENTY-TEN!"

He swore he could see her glance round at him, brilliant grin lighting up her features, as she did a lap of victory, a roar in her throat and the wind in her long, black hair.

"Andromeda Black, there," he continued, "continuing her long standing trait of being bloody brilliant."

And this time, she definitely did turn around, she looked right into his eyes, as she flew past his podium, and she winked.

_Andromeda Black. What a woman._

* * *

"You were brilliant."

"Your commentary was excellent."

"Cheers."

"You're welcome."

They were wandering down the corridor they'd met on Hallowe'en, hiding from homework and whining best friends.

"Did you see Vance's face when I got that third one though?" Andromeda chortled, "I've never seen anything so funny in my entire life!"

"You're being harsh there," Ted said, "it was her first match, after all."

"I thought I was brilliant?"

"You were," he soothed her; "I just think it's a bit harsh to laugh at Emmeline, that's all."

"What?" She stopped, arms folded, and glared at him. "D'you fancy her or something?"

He had to fight the urge to laugh at her; _how could any man fancy the stately looking Emmeline Vance when there were Andromedas? _"No," he chuckled, "no, I really don't."

"Well," she mumbled, "you seem pretty defensive of her."

"I'm defensive of _everyone_," he reminded her, "I'm a badger."

She shuffled towards him, head bowed in shame. _Of course he didn't fancy Emmeline_, she thought to herself_, he's so perfect that he's probably got a Muggle girlfriend waiting for him back home_.

"So you don't fancy her?"

"No, I don't fancy anyo-no, I don't fancy _her_," he said slowly, "as for other Chasers..." he trailed off. _Oh, Tonks, _he thought to himself, _oh Tonks what have you done?_

It had crept up on him, the swirly headed '_oh, it's you, _you're _the one they write poems about'_ feeling. Perhaps it had been there always, and he had never noticed it before? Or maybe it was the way she looked at him on Hallowe'en, all wide eyes and _woah_. But, more likely, it was the grin she'd had on her face when she'd shot that third hoop, and her eyes had met his in the commentator's box, and he'd winked. And she'd winked back. And now he knew it, knew that all he actually wanted from life was her and her brown eyes, he had to tell her. So that her and her brown eyes _were_ all he had in life.

"You fancy Rabastan Lestrange?" she laughed, shaking off the stomach squirming feeling that told her that _he might be talking about you, Black._

"No, but close..."

"Rodolphus is taken. Or at least. He might be."

"Not a Lestrange."

"Jess Patil?" _please Merlin, no_, _not the most beautiful girl on the squad, please, please._

"Not Jess. She's a Beater anyway; don't you know your own team, Black?"

_Oh thank you, Merlin_.

"If not Jess," she tossed her hair with a nonchalant laugh, hoping to give off an enigmatic air. It didn't work, needless to say. Edward Tonks saw right through nonchalance. "If not Jess, then..._Gretel Gilbert?_"

"No, Andromeda," he leant against the wall, and she stood beside him, hoping that the beating of her feverish heart would not betray her, "no, not Gretel Gilbert; her brother would probably kill me anyway. No, the girl I fancy is..." he trailed off. _Forget it, Tonks, there's no way she'd like a Mudblood like you._

"Is it..." she caught her hand in his, "is it...?"

It didn't need saying. He nodded, and all thoughts of _only been friends three months_ and _what would Mother say? _and _toujours fucking pur_, went flying out of Andromeda Black's head and she kissed him.

And there were fireworks, and sparks, and for the very briefest moment there was no hatred in the world, just love and like and kissing.

And then they broke apart, and all- for the tiniest of times- was well.

* * *

"Did you miss me?" Carrie asked her later, throwing herself down on the bed in the dormitory; they could hear the other girls in the bathroom, whispering and giggling "I missed you."

"Bless you, _ma chapeau,_" Andromeda smiled, "was it that bad?"

"It was _awful_," Carrie groaned, "it was awful, terrible, horrid, I have _no words_, no words to describe how awful and terrible Augustus Rookwood is. _No words!_" She threw her arms in the air, and Andromeda sighed sympathetically.

"Did he not appreciate Van Gough, darling?" she asked with a smile.

"_No!_" Carrie wailed, "No! He didn't! He didn't even know who Van Gough is! Imagine that! Not knowing who Van Gough is! What a terrible way to live! Isn't that a terrible way to live?"

"Yes," she said, "yes, it's a terrible way to live your life."

"I'm just glad that you and me have got our artist's colony to look forward to," Carrie sighed, pulling the duvet over her head, "I don't think I could cope with all the idiots forever."

"You won't have to, dear," Andromeda lay back on the pillows and smiled. An artist's colony sounded like a nice way to live, even if she couldn't draw for toffee.

But she kept remembering how Ted's lips felt on hers, and the way he'd smiled when she'd pulled away, and maybe...maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to live in an artist's colony...maybe she could be with Ted instead.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: still dont own any of it. Thank you for your lovely reviews, they make me stupidly happy!**

**This chapter is dedicated to my stupid best friend Abi, who is in Portugal, and who I miss like mad.**

* * *

He kept seeing her everywhere he went. On the Quidditch pitch, down by Hagrid's, by the broom sheds, in the Great Hall. Her brown eyes shone every time he looked at them, and her ruby red lips always curved into a smile when she saw him.

_Jesus, _he thought, _I've got it bad._

He wasn't even sure what to do with it, all these squirmy feelings in his stomach. He tried to write a poem, but it was shit, and he couldn't paint either. He felt like he should make her something as beautiful as she was. But all his attempts bore no fruit, and he was left with nothing but the way he had to catch his breath when he saw her.

* * *

"Ands," Carrie began one morning, when it was just the two of them in the dormitory, "are you seeing someone?"

_Technically no, _she thought, _but eventually, yeah._ "Nope, why'd you ask?"

"You're glowing, that's all," Carrie replied cheerily, "I just thought you might have gotten laid."

Andromeda laughed. _Dear Carrie_. "Alas," she chuckled, "it's only post-Quidditch victory glowing."

"Y'know…" Carrie sighed, and tried to flatten her mountain of curls, face screwed up in concentration, "I think I'd enjoy Quidditch a lot more if you got a Crème Egg at the end of it."

"Yeah," Andromeda laughed again, "you would."

"You should do that, you know," Carrie continued to pat her hair, "hand out Crème Eggs at the end of practise. It'd give them much more motivation."

"Victory is the only motivation my team need, thank you very much," but she was smiling, because Carrie could make her smile when no one else could, "maybe at the end of the season?"

"I could source them for you!" the dark haired girl said enthusiastically, "Gideon Prewett knows a bloke in Hogsmeade that gets Muggle sweets at a knockdown price! It wouldn't cost much at all!"

"Thanks, Carriage."

"You're welcome!"

* * *

She ran into him in the Charms corridor, between Classrooms 13 and 14.

"Commentator," she said, and he beamed.

"How's tricks, Chaser?"

"Well, there's this boy…" she twirled a lock of dark hair round a thin finger.

"Is there now?"

"Yeah, you might know him? Tall, good looking, Hufflepuff…?"

"Rings a bell, yeah." An arm snaked around her waist, and she let out a girlish giggle.

"Anyway," she told him as his face inched closer to hers, "I really like him. He kissed me at Hallowe'en, right?"

"Yeah…"

They were breathing the same breaths now, noses touching. "And I haven't heard from him since."

"You upset about that?"

"Little bit, yeah."

He couldn't think of a response, because she was right there, in front of him, and she was a bit upset because he'd not talked to her since the kiss, oh wow, oh wow, he couldn't breathe.

So he kissed her.

When they stopped for breath, Andromeda was smiling.

"Still pissed with me?"

"Not anymore, no."

He let go of her waist with a grin, and caught her long, thin hand in his big one. She stiffened, like she was scared.

"You alright, Chaser?"

"I…urm…Ted. It's not…it's not going to be easy," _she couldn't breathe from the fear that Bella would come round that corner and hex her until her insides bled, _"If we're going to, y'know…I mean…I like you. I really, really-"

"Andromeda," he said very seriously, "you don't snog a boy like that and then chuck him, it doesn't work like that."

"I'm not chucking you," she replied quickly, "it's just- I'm not- I'll never- we can't- oh Merlin, Merlin, this was stupid, I'm…"

"Your family'd go bananas if they saw us together?" he asked her quietly. She nodded, and the realisation of who this girl was hit him like a double decker bus.

The way Ted Tonks saw it, he had two choices. One. He could chuck her, get out of it whilst there was still time, run for the hills whilst his legs still worked. Two. He could see her in private, just the two of them (_and he'd never get bored, they never ran out of things to talk about_), because he was sixteen, and she was a pretty girl who seemed to really like him, and if it got any further than just snogging in abandoned corridors…well, he'd cross that bridge when they came to it. _If _they came to it. They might not. Andromeda Black could well be just a footnote in his dating history, an anecdote told at a party that was greeted with "wait, you went out with _Andromeda Black_?'. But, the way his insides squirmed when she looked at him, the way her smile lit up her eyes – well, that told him that maybe, just maybe, they were in it for the long run.

He squeezed her shaking hand. "What're you doing Hogsmeade weekend?" he asked quietly. A smile, the smallest of smiles, crept onto her face.

"Nothing," she replied, "why?"

"It's just…" he sighed, and let go of her now still hand, slinging an arm around her shoulder, "there's this _super _cool girl who I_ really _wanted to take to Madam Puddifoots, and I just wanted to make sure you didn't gatecrash it."

"Oh really…?" she raised an eyebrow, but she was nestled right into his arm, into his chest, so you couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began.

"Yeah," he told her, "she's a very pretty girl, you know. _Regal _looking."

She giggled.

"Are you only seeing her for her looks?"

"Nah," he dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and for a moment the world stopped spinning, like the universe wanted them to have these few moments together. "She's an alright kisser."

Andromeda laughed. "Why thank you."

"Who said I was talking about you?"

"Ha! Git!"

She stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek, and then he murmured in her ear; "No, but really. Me, you, Madam Puddifoots?"

"My sisters…" _argh, fuck it all to hell, _"Actually. Sod it. Sod my sisters, sod _toujours pur,_ sod my mother and my father. Sod the whole fucking thing. I want to go to Hogsmeade and sit in a shitty café and have a drink with a good looking boy who makes me laugh, and do you know what?" She'd pulled away from him, was storming down the corridor, before she turned to face him, eyes aflame. "I fucking will."

* * *

"So." Carrie flung herself onto the bench on the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, "Augustus Rookwood did _not _take being chucked very kindly, but I don't give a shit, so there is that. But anyway- ooh, is that cheesecake? Gimme!" With a girlish giggle, she dug into the cheesecake, and carried on nattering. Andromeda's eyes wandered over to the Hufflepuff table, where Ted was sat with a pudgy brunette boy, eating and laughing.

"But anyway, Ands, I was thinking right, since _I'm _now single- I mean we were never boyfriend and girlfriend, that's stupid- but since we're _both _boyless- is that a word? It should be- so, you know what I was thinking we should do?"

"Hm?" Andromeda replied absentmindedly. She wasn't concentrating, because Ted was doing that stupid 'throw grapes into my mouth' thing that all boys seemed to be obsessed with, and he was doing remarkably well.

"Ands, are you even listening to me?" Carrie asked. There was no reply from Andromeda.

"Fine then, just ignore me," she mumbled, and it was then that Andromeda turned her head.

"Sorry, Ca'. You were saying?" she smiled widely at her, and Carrie grinned back.

"Me, you, pint down The Three Broomsticks? Only not mead, because I am still traumatised by last year when you were sick on my shoes."

Andromeda laughed. "Sorry about that."

"You can say sorry 'til you're blue in the face, but it doesn't excuse the fact that my beloved boots _are still stained _by your vomit. Which," and she took another bite of cheesecake, "is why I don't wear them anymore."

But she was smiling, was Carrie, because she could never get angry at Andromeda. _Well_, Miss Black thought, _she might get angry at me now. _

"Ca', I've…urm…I've got a date."

"You _what_?"

"A date. I have one."

"With _who_?"

Andromeda tried not to look over at the Hufflepuff table. Keeping a secret, she knew, only worked if you weren't _obvious _about it. "I can't tell you," she said quietly, "sorry."

A fine line of concern appeared on Carrie's forehead. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't you tell me who you're going on a date with? I'm not _Bella_, I won't hex them into oblivion or anything."

"Because..." she loved Carrie. She knew that. Carrie was her best friend in the whole world. And yet…she couldn't tell her, because even if only one person knew, then there was more likely to get out to Bella, and to her mother, and Andromeda knew what happened to people who _disrespected the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black_, who took no consideration for _toujours pur_, and she could smell the burning tapestry. And she didn't want that, not until she knew what she was getting herself into. She could tell Carrie about fancying the pants off him, of course she could, because that wouldn't get her disowned, but now it was _real_, it was a thing that was actually happening – she couldn't get chucked out over one date.

"Because I just _can't_, Ca'. I'm sorry."

"Fine," Carrie replied, a little coldly, "that's fine, if you can't tell me, then you can't tell me. That's absolutely fine. As your best friend in the whole wide world, I respect your life choice."

"Thanks, Carrie."

Carrie fell into silence, and stabbed her cheesecake with a little too much ferocity.

"It probably won't go anywhere." Andromeda said soothingly.

"Mmm."

"The likelihood of it going somewhere is very small."

Carrie looked up from her cheesecake. "Do you _want _it to go somewhere?"

"Carrie…"

"Because if you don't, then you shouldn't go. It'll only make it more painful for him when you do split up."

Andromeda was silent for a moment. "I _really like _him, Ca'."

"If he hurts you," Carrie said, voice level and quiet, "then I'll kill him."

And then, her round face broke into a wide smile, and Andromeda knew that Carrie was not angry with her.

* * *

It rained, that Saturday. It was grey and boring, and the sun didn't come out at all. Carrie brushed Andromeda's hair for her, and they listened to the first Goblins album, loudly, because everyone else in the dormitory had gone down to breakfast.

"Can I guess who this boy is?" Carrie asked, as Andromeda hummed along to _Fell For Your Charms _under her breath.

"You can try."

"Is he in our year?"

"Yes."

"Is he in our house?"

She paused from her hair brushing to study Andromeda's reaction. But, as a member of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Andromeda had perfected the art of not letting her face give the game away.

"Ah," she replied, "that'd be telling."

"You're such a _tease_, Black." Carrie laughed.

"You said you'd guess!"

Carrie smiled, and continued to brush Andromeda's long brown hair. "Slytherin," she said, as if that made everything make sense. Which, Andromeda supposed, it did.

* * *

"Where're you meeting him then?" Carrie asked as they wandered up to the Great Hall.

"Madam Puddifoots. But we'll probably move about a bit, you know, because people might see us."

"Does he _know _that you're being all super-duper secret about this?"

Did he? They hadn't talked about it. She'd gone in there, spitting fire, and she hadn't even thought it through.

"I dunno…"

"_You're a Black, missy_," Carrie cackled, in a rather frighteningly accurate impression of Andromeda's mother, "_use proper words please_!"

Andromeda laughed loudly.

"If you see Bella- which you probably won't, I think she got detention for hexing a third year- then tell her I've stayed in this week."

"Doing what?" Carrie asked.

"Homework, I guess, I dunno, think of something."

"You seem to be labouring under the impression that I have a quick mind."

Andromeda looked at Carrie. "I'm not labouring under any impression," she said, "You're fab. Now, I've got to run, he'll be waiting. Meet you back here at six?"

Carrie smiled widely. "Good luck."

Andromeda gave her a hug, and then, wind rushing through her ears, she ran towards the carriages, humming as she went.


	7. Chapter 7

**author's note: manatocfox - yeah, it was a massive anachronism in retrospect, so i changed it to something a bit more seventies haha! thank you for the review, it was lovely to read! And the rest of you!**

**Disclaimer: copyright Rowlers. Bless her (ALSO SIDE NOTE CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT FANTASTIC BEASTS BECAUSE WOW AM I EXCITED FOR THAT?)**

* * *

He was waiting for her outside, with a cigarette in his mouth and his hands in the pockets of his flared jeans.

"Alright?" he sounded nervous. He _was_ nervous, she could tell; he was all jittery and jumpy. It was, she thought, endearing.

"Fine, you?"

"Bloody brilliant," Ted replied with a smile. "Shall we?"

She looked into the window of the cafe, at its pink lights and the frilly tablecloths. It didn't look like _them_, it didn't look like the type of place they should be having their first date.

"Tell you what…" she said with a grin, "I've got a better idea…"

She grabbed his arm (_and to hell with anyone who saw them_) and dragged him down an alleyway.

"Uh, Black?" he said nervously, "I usually wait until at least the third date to do this with a girl."

"Don't flatter yourself, Tonks," she grinned, "I'm taking you to one of mine and Carrie's all-time favourite hangouts."

"That's Carrie as in Shacklebolt, right? Curly hair, bit gangly? Always got paint on her shirt?"

"Been looking at her top, have we- no, you tosser, go right down here, it's in Bagshot Street-?"

"Oh ha ha very funny-" they turned the corner, and Andromeda let go of his arm, because here people could _see _them- "I haven't been perving on anyone, she's just very obvious about it. Hard to ignore someone when they're glowing, isn't it?"

"She doesn't glow," Andromeda corrected him, "she _shines_. She's always covered in paint. She's an _artist_."

"Ah, yes, the colony. I remember now. Where is it again?" Ted asked, stubbing out his cigarette under his foot as they walked.

"She's talking about having it in Rome, but to be honest," Andromeda stopped abruptly outside a dimly lit shop, and turned to Ted, "I don't think it'll get any further than Bournemouth. But that's alright. I like Bournemouth."

"What do people even _do _in an artist's colony?" Ted asked. Andromeda laughed.

"I don't know. I don't even think that Carrie knows herself. Well, anyway, here we are!"

Ted regarded the building in front of him. It looked dingy, and slightly grubby. Small, with grimy windows that he couldn't quite see through, and the brown paint was peeling off the front door. The sign that was half fallen down above the window, read "Mumps & Daughters Records".

"This is where the great Andromeda Black spends her weekends, eh?" he said eventually, "Best see what all the fuss is about, then."

He winked at her, and she blushed, and they walked into the record shop together.

The woman behind the counter was a bony, grey haired old woman who chain smoked and bit her fingernails.

"Morning, Black," she croaked when she saw Andromeda, "no Shacklebolt today?"

"Hello, Rachel!" Andromeda replied cheerily, "No Carrie today I'm afraid, but I expect she'll be in later! I'm just showing Ted around!"

In the presence of strangers, Andromeda seemed to morph into something that Ted had never seen before. Gone was the raised eyebrows and the vulnerability he had witnessed previously. It was replaced by a wide and welcoming smile, a positivity that brightened everything it touched. _She really is the perfect socialite, _he thought, _she has been trained to be a ray of sunshine_.

"What bands d'you like, boy?" the old witch rasped at Ted, and pointed a thin finger at him.

"Oh, gosh, urm…" he scratched the back of his neck, "Muggle stuff, really. I don't listen to a lot of wizard bands, I-"

"Wait," Andromeda interrupted, "you've never heard The Goblins?"

"The _who_?"

"The Goblins- they're Carrie's favourite band- or what about Iris Greengrass? Or The Pumpkins?"

The witch behind the counter watched him eagerly, because his response to this question, he knew, would determine what he bought in her shop.

"Sometimes Tony plays an album called _Help The Hippogriffs_…"

"The Pumpkins!" Andromeda said triumphantly, "He has good taste! Rachel, have you got their first album?"

"Probably," she wheezed, "I'll check in the back…"

"Have you got any Muggle stuff too?" Ted asked quickly, "There's this band I want to introduce Andromeda to."

"Third aisle, on your left," Rachel shuffled out from behind the counter, "don't break anything."

He went to grab Andromeda's thin hand, but stopped, because anyone could see them here.

"It's ok," she said quietly, "we can trust Rachel. She's a mate."

And she covered the distance, and slipped her thin hand into his big one.

"So, _this_," Ted held up an LP, "is the greatest album you will ever hear in your entire life."

"Is it now?" she asked, eyebrow raised quizzically.

"It's only been out a few weeks," he told her, "but it's bloody brilliant, Chaser, I swear. T-Rex, they're called. _Electric Warrior._ It's really good."

"The cover looks weird," Andromeda took it from him, "Is it supposed to be arty?"

"Yeah," he said, "I think it is." And he laughed.

Rachel's bones creaked and groaned behind them, to announce her arrival back in the room.

"You buying anything, Black?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm not sure," she smiled, "Ted, what do you think?"

"I've got my own copy. We could, uh, we could, y'know…"

"No, I can't say I do."

_Jesus, Tonks, _he thought, _why are you such a mess? She's just a girl. _

"We could listen to it together," he finished nervously, "if you want."

"I'd like that," was all she said. His heart jumped into his throat, and he beamed.

"Skint flint," Rachel hissed from behind the counter, "you only said yes so you didn't have to buy your own copy."

Andromeda turned to Rachel, a wide smile on her face.

"_Au contraire_, Miss Mumps," she laughed, "I happen to enjoy spending time with Ted, thank you very much."

"Oh really- here, boy, here's that Pumpkins record- and what would your mother say about that?"

Andromeda's jaw tightened, and her already pale face blanched considerably. A sudden wave of protectiveness enveloped Ted. He wanted, desperately, to keep her away from all the questions and accusations, for no one to ever ask her again what her family thought of anything. He wanted- and this was selfish, he knew- for it to be just the two of them, always, in a record shop, talking and laughing.

"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks," Ted said, voice low, "it's not any of their business."

Andromeda squeezed his hand gratefully. Rachel, however, scoffed.

"You say that now," she warned, "but when it all goes horribly wrong, you'll change your tune."

"I thought she was a mate?" Ted hissed through his teeth.

"_I thought so too_," she muttered back, grip on his hand tightening.

"You buying anything?" the old witch asked, stubbing out her cigarette like she hadn't just thrown a grenade at them. A grenade in the shape of a reminder, he thought, a reminder that they were, had been and always will be different from each other. But it didn't seem to matter to her, because she was clutching at his hand like it was the only thing keeping her feet on the ground. That made him feel a bit better. Not a lot better, but a bit.

"No thanks," Andromeda replied crisply, "we won't be buying anything from here today."

A certain kind of coldness set in her elegant features, and, still holding his hand, she left the shop, half-dragging Ted with her.

* * *

"I'm sorry about that," she said very quietly in the alleyway, "I am very sorry."

"You don't need to apologise, Chaser," he replied, squeezing her hand, "it's not your fault. I kissed you, remember?"

She looked at her feet. Her shoes gleamed in the sunlight. "No," she whispered, "no, we kissed each other. And besides-" she looked up, a gleam of that Slytherin determination she was famed for in her brown eyes, "this is just a date. We're just two people spending a Saturday together. No one should make us feel bad about that."

He beamed at her, a huge smile that lit up his thin face. He _really liked _Andromeda Black. He liked that she knew exactly what she wanted, that she apologised for other people's nosiness.

"No," he replied, "no, you're right. They shouldn't."

"So this record?" she said curiously, "You reckon I'll like it?"

"I think you will, yeah," he replied, digging around in his jacket pocket for a packet of cigarettes, "Mum sent it to me, along with three Mars Bars and a packet of Marlboro Lights. Can't get good fags for love nor money 'round here."

"She doesn't mind you smoking?" Andromeda asked, slipping her hand out of his, because in a moment they would be out of the alley and into the street, and she wasn't ready for her sister to see them yet. Ted shook his head.

"Nah, as long as I don't do it in the house. She doesn't like the way it smells."

"I like it," Andromeda sighed, "it smells…I don't know, it smells real. I like that. I like feeling real."

He was struck by the poignancy of her remark, and nudged her shoulder affectionately (because holding hands was possibly dangerous, so close to the High Street). "Don't you always feel real?" he asked quietly.

"No," she murmured, "but I do when I'm with you, when I'm with Carrie. That's how I choose who to spend my time with, see? Who makes my mind not wander so far I get lost?"

He smiled at her, but she did not smile back. She was thinking about Bellatrix, in the castle, doodling on her desk, scratching her initials in the wood and seething about how she'll get the tattle-tales who told on her. Bellatrix didn't make her feel real; Bellatrix made her feel scared, and worried and sometimes, when she lay in bed at night and could hear Carrie snoring away next to her, she admitted to herself what she could only think in those small hours between days; that Bellatrix was mad, stark raving mad, and that one day she was going to do something terrible, so terrible, that Andromeda would never be able to forgive her. She could feel it in the back of her throat when Bellatrix's eyes flared with rage, in the pit of her stomach when her sister raised her voice, and it frightened her. It was this that she thought of as they walked side by side down Hogsmeade High Street, desperately trying not to attract anyone's attention (_because if they did, then word might get to her sisters, or to the Lestranges or to Lucius Malfoy, and then she'd be for the high jump, she would, she would_).

"This album…" he asked eventually, as they walked past Honeydukes, "do you really want to listen to it with me?"

"What? Oh- yeah, sorry, _yes,_ Ted, of course I do, of _course _I do. I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"Right," he said briskly, "That's brilliant then. Great. I just thought, y'know, you went all quiet and stuff, so-"

"But first," she cut him off with a grin, "I would like a drink. In The Three Broomsticks. With you." And then, as an afterthought, "Please."

"Bit crowded, innit?" he scratched the back of his neck with the hand that did not hold the cigarette. She laughed.

"No one'll overhear us," she told him lightly, "We could be discussing Quidditch for all they know."

"We might be discussing Quidditch…"

"Let's face it, Ted, we will probably end up discussing Quidditch."

"Tutshill Tornadoes or the Holyhead Harpies?"

"The Harpies, _obviously_. Unbeaten for five years. _Five years, _Ted!"

"Alright, alright. Fiona Jones, or Ursula Middleton?"

"Jones, every time. Middleton's too possessive of the Quaffle, someone needs to teach her how pass, dammit!"

"See, this is why _you're _the captain, and I'm just the commentator."

"There is no _just _in commentating, Tonks, you're an important part of the show. Merlin knows I wouldn't be half as mad for Quidditch as I am now if it hadn't been for the brilliant commentators at games I went to as a child."

"You flatter me, and my profession."

"Well, it's true," and as if to prove her point, she took a gulp of Butterbeer, "Is that what you want to do then, commentating?"

"Well," Ted lit another cigarette (_this was nervous chain smoking; he could feel it in the pit of his stomach_) "maybe, but I'm not sure. What I _really _want to do is work for the _Prophet_, match reviews, that sort of thing, or maybe _Which Broomstick? _But it all depends."

"On what?"

_On you_. "On my marks, and stuff. And my mum. What about you?"

"My future," she sighed dramatically, "is also dependent on my mother. But, ah, for a different reason, I think?"

He nodded, cigarette between teeth. "Yeah, mine's not setting me up with any princesses any time soon."

"Could you marry a princess, then?" she asked idly.

"I could marry you." Silence, and then – "shit, _shit_, sorry, God, what an idiot, I'm so-"

A giggle escaped her thin red lips, and he looked at her, deep into her eyes, and she laughed more. "It's alright, Ted. It's alright."

He put his head in his hands, cigarette still smouldering. "Sorry, _sorry_, I – argh, foot in mouth, you know?"

She smirked, and sipped her drink. "Isn't that what cows get?"

"Nah, that's foot _and _mouth. Listen- I….it just slipped out, y'know, I didn't-"

Andromeda giggled again, and drained the last of her drink. He was sweet, and funny and charming, and _oh_, this felt like when she looked up at the stars and they seemed to shine just for her. His face was etched with concern – he obviously thought he'd cocked it up, but he hadn't, he hadn't at all, it was endearing, the way he let his thoughts become his words so openly. She admired that. She admired him. What she would give to be able to say what she really and truly thought.

"Are we going to listen to this album," she asked him, carefully and steadily, "or not?"

For a moment, his face was blank, and then realisation dawned upon it. Beaming, he scrambled up, his eagerness obvious to all.

"It's in me and Tony's secret hiding place," he told her, "promise you won't tell?"

"Promise."

As they were leaving, deliberately not bumping arms or laughing too loudly, a boy at the bar- a thin, pale, blonde boy- caught Andromeda's arm. She stopped, calmly and collectedly, and did not call out to Ted, who carried on out of the bar, and she turned to the boy- Lucius Malfoy- and looked him dead in the eye.

"Yes, Lucius?" she asked icily.

"_What_," he hissed dangerously, (_but she did not shake, she did not shiver, because she was ice and she did not melt easily_) "are you _doing_?"

The grip on her arm tightened. "Having a drink at The Three Broomsticks. Is it not obvious?"

"_With a Mudblood, Andromeda?_" Lucius spat, "With a dirty, common, _Hufflepuff_ Mudblood?"

"Ted Tonks is tutoring me for Charms," she lied easily, and calmly, "We were just organising lunchtimes, to meet in the library. I don't want my grades slipping, do I? Because then no pureblood man will want me."

He did not let go of her arm, and his nostrils flared like a horse.

"And now," she continued, "once you let me go- and _you will let me go, Lucius_- I am going to meet Carrie in the Great Hall, and then we will go and have an early dinner, and then, I think, I might start that essay we had for Slughorn. What do you think?"

Lucius snorted, and Andromeda resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but he let her go, like she'd told him to, and that was the important thing.

"Ask Professor Flitwick," he snarled, "if you can have a different tutor."

"As you wish," she hissed like a snake. "Oh, and Lucius? If you fuck Narcissa over, then I'll have your guts for garters. Understand?"

He did not reply, but turned back to the bar, where he was nursing, she noticed, pumpkin juice. Not so rock and roll after all, she thought with a smirk.

Ted was waiting for her outside, leant against a lamp post (_like the first time they'd spoken_).

"Alright?" he asked quietly. She nodded, and pulled her jacket further around her thin frame. Speaking with Lucius made her skin crawl.

"I've told him you're tutoring me for Charms."

"Did you now?"

"Mmmm," they began walking, closer together, as the first drops of rain began to fall, "He told me to get a new tutor."

"And will you?"

Fear repressed the urge she had to kiss him, but she did nudge his shoulder (_well, his elbow really, for he was far taller than she_) with her own. "Nah," she said, "probably not."

* * *

"How was it?" Carrie wanted to know. Andromeda, leaning against a wall in the Great Hall, seemed to be in a world of her own.

"Oi," Carrie waved in her friend's direction, "Oi, Black, I'm talking to you!"

"Hmm? Oh, what- yeah, yeah, it was good, it was good. It was a laugh." Andromeda nodded vigorously, as if to emphasise her point.

"Did you pull?" Carrie asked casually, running a hand through her messy hair.

"Carrietta!" Andromeda laughed, and Carrie shoved her playfully.

"_Don't_!" she groaned, "I've only just got Slughorn to stop calling me that! _Merlin_."

"I don't know why you hate it so much," smirked Andromeda, and Carrie pouted like a six year old that had just been denied its favourite sweets.

"You'd hate it too, if your mother named you _Carrietta Vulpeca_. Honestly!"

"I think it's sweet," the brunette laughed, and linked arms with her dearest friend. "C'mon Ca'. I'm _starving_."

"But did you pull?"

"_Carrie_!"

"Alright, alright, I'll stop asking!"

The sound of their laughter filled the halls, and ricocheted off the cold stone.

* * *

"Where in Circe's name have you been all day?" Tony asked, sprawled out on the sofa in the Hufflepuff Common Room.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Oi- move your legs, lazy, other people have got to sit down you know!"

"Alright, alright, keep your wig on!" He laughed, but he did move, and Ted sat beside him with a _schlump_.

"No," Tony said, opening a packet of Droobles that lay on the table in front of them, "but really – where were you?"

"On a date – chuck us one of those, will you? - with a girl – _oi you minger, I said chuck us one of those, will you? _– and it went well, before you ask."

"Did you pull?" Tony asked, flinging a piece of bubblegum at Ted's head. The blonde boy laughed loudly.

"I'm not telling you that!"

"Spoilsport," his friend smirked, and Ted laughed again.

"Who is she, then?" Tony continued, and Ted shifted uncomfortably on the settee. Tony was his best mate, and he wanted to tell him, he really did, but-

"I can't tell you, mate," he sighed, "it's really…it's really fucking complicated…I-"

"Aw, c'mon, man," he groaned, "you can't tell me you went on a date and then not tell me who with. You're stringing me along. You're like Susie Spinnet, _but worse_."

The bubble that Ted had been blowing popped.

"Don't be a dick about Susie Spinnet," he said, "she's a right laugh."

"A right laugh who wouldn't let Sam Boot feel her up after the third date!"

Ted shook his head, exasperated. "You really are an awful human being," he sighed, "I'm going out for a fag. _Don't_ eat all the sweets."

"I won't." he promised.

* * *

_Hufflepuff Common Room_

_Sunday 14__th__ November 1971_

_Mum-_

_What terrible news about Jennifer O'Flagherty! I hope she's alright. Must be pretty traumatic, getting jilted. Or at least, that is the impression I got from Great Expectations. _

_Cheers for the record, it's brilliant isn't it? Tony doesn't think it's as good as The Goblins first album, but everyone's entitled to their opinion I suppose. Not his fault he has awful music taste. _

_Lessons are ditchwater dull, I swear to God, Mum, even my beloved Charms is boring me out of my skull. Do you think it's my age? It's probably my age. I think everyone gets restless, don't they? You certainly did, that's how you ended up with me (ha!)._

_You asked how Tony was, and he's fine. He's still selling Gillyweed (I'm not smoking any, before you ask. I'm just telling you because you're always going on about us having an open and honest relationship.) and his girlfriend is probably seconds away from chucking him for Amos Diggory (Quidditch Captain, hair like Marc Bolan, makes me doubt that evolution happened), but he'll be alright. He always is. _

_There's actually another relationship that I need to tell you about. It's not really important, and it's probably nothing, but I need your advice anyway, so I'm just going to come out and say it-_

_There's a girl. 16, about five foot five, medium build, wavy brown hair, smattering of freckles across her nose, Captain of her House Quidditch team, pureblood. I have explained all this pureblood stuff, haven't I? She's from a family that is- or rather, claims to be, because Tony says it's impossible to have a 100% pureblood family with a lot of incest- entirely magical. And they loathe people like me, Mum. They think I've stolen it, or something. Which is ridiculous. I get so much stick for it, and I've tried not to tell you about it, because I don't want to worry you, but it's necessary for you to know now, so I suppose I have to. _

_But she's not like that. She's mad, Mum, properly bonkers, and I think you'd love her. I think I might love her, one day. You know when you meet someone, and it feels like you've been hit been scooped up by a hurricane, like Dorothy's house in the Wizard of Oz, and you don't care, because you're flying? Well I didn't, until Andromeda. That's her name. Pretty, isn't it? I might shorten it, it's a bit of a mouthful. She's hilarious, and I introduced her to T-Rex and she loved them, and now I think I might lend her my Bowie album (so if you could enclose that with your next letter that would be lovely, thank you) and we had a date yesterday that was fantastic and ugh – I could write you a thousand pages about her (I can almost hear you laughing "My Edward! Fallen in love! What larks!" and I demand you stop laughing right now; it's this sort of behaviour that emotionally stunts people.) But here's the gist of it – I want her to be my girlfriend. Hand holding, having dinner together girlfriend and boyfriend. But obviously I can't, because the stigma is so huge around her seeing a Muggleborn (me) that she'd probably get disowned. And I can't let her do that, I can't have her chuck her family away just for me. I'm not worth that. Nobody is. My head's a mess, Mum. God this is cheesy. I'm sorry, I promise my next letter will be funnier. _

_Love,_

_Ted_

_P.S. Send Jennifer some lemon drizzle cake, would you? She probably needs cheering up. _


	8. Chapter 8

**author's note: thank you so much for all your reviews! don't worry, i haven't abandoned this story! i hope you enjoy this chapter! warning, fair bit of violence ahead. **

* * *

_Tuesday 16__th__ September 1971_

_Boy-_

_First things first. Jennifer loved the lemon drizzle cake. She cried when I gave it to her. Rumour has it that he (he being the jilter, Jennifer being the jiltee) has been run out of town. But no one knows for sure. Personally I think it would be better for everyone if they didn't dwell on it, just picked themselves up, dusted themselves off and started again, but apparently she has to be allowed some 'wallowing time'._

_ In regards to your restlessness, I shall impart upon you the wisdom that my dear mother departed upon me when I was your age; cut your hair, change your cologne, and take a different walk to school in the morning. It's just a phase, darling, it's just a phase. (I might add that I took none of her advice and instead started seeing a boy who rode a motor bicycle without a helmet, which is, as you said, how I ended up with you). _

_As for Tony – well, as long as he doesn't bully you into anything you don't want to do, I can't say I mind. Not my son, is he? _

_Please find enclosed with this letter a copy of David Bowie's eponymous 1969 album. You should definitely shorten her name. I like 'Meda'. The 'Andro' is just complicating things, isn't it?_

_I am glad, dearest boy, that you have met someone who makes you feel seasick. It is a necessary part of growing up and one I was not entirely sure you'd get going to wizard school. I did not laugh when I read your letter. I may or may not have cried into my Ovaltine, so happy was I that I was finally getting a letter that was not all about Quidditch, but I did not laugh. It doesn't sound a very funny situation to be in, if you ask me. It wasn't for Tristan and Isolde (far superior to Romeo and Juliet in every way) and it isn't for you. But know this, dear one; there are things worth getting disowned for, there are things worth losing limbs for and there are things worth dying for. Love is one of them. _

_I don't really have much else to add. I hope the weather's nice, and that you hand all your homework in on time. _

_Love always,_

_Mum x_

* * *

The rain fell hard as Andromeda made her way to the Entrance Hall, humming _Get It On (Bang A Gong) _under her breath. Of course, she was not troubled by it, mainly because she was in the castle, and the rain was outside, but also because not a lot seemed to be troubling her at the moment. Being in like had excellent health benefits, apparently. She was even flying better. Carrie had come to watch her at practise last Tuesday, and had commented as they walked back to the changing rooms; "Are you _sure_ you're not getting laid?"

"Definitely sure," Andromeda had said, sipping from her water bottle, "not yet, at least."

And Carrie had laughed.

Before August, she'd never really noticed Ted. Not in lessons, at any rate. But now…now he was everywhere. Take Charms for instance – she'd been sat behind him for _six years_ and she'd never known. It wasn't that he was ugly or anything, it was more like she hadn't even allowed herself to look at him, because not only was he a _Hufflepuff_, but he was a _Muggleborn_. She knew this because one day he'd forgotten a quill, and used this strange stick of plastic with ink as blue as the night sky. She had Charms today, last lesson. She'd write him a note, she thought, a note to ask for a second date. Maybe they could just stay at Hogwarts this time, doss about under that massive beech tree by the Black Lake, hide in an alcove and kiss for hours. Merlin's bollocks, she _really_ liked him.

"Andromeda?" came a voice behind her. _Bellatrix_.

"Hmmm?" _Calm, keep calm, and don't let her see the fear in your eyes_.

"I've just had a _really nice chat _with Lucius Malfoy."

Andromeda smiled her socialite smile. "Don't let Cissy hear you say that," she chirped, "she'll skin you alive. She's got the most _horrendous _crush on Lucius."

Bellatrix laughed, and there was a manic quality to it that frightened her sister.

"A word, please?"

"Of course, dear."

Every word they spoke to each other seemed to be laced with venom.

"In _private_?" Bellatrix hissed, and Andromeda smiled as sweetly as she could.

"There's no one else here."

Bellatrix looked around, with the paranoia of a seasoned rule breaker, and no sooner as she had confirmed her sister's statement, she shoved her against the wall with breath taking ferocity, nails digging into her pale neck.

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing, Andromeda?" _she spat, and Andromeda struggled under her grip, heart pounding in her ears.

"I – don't- understand , what you are- _Bella, get off me_- talking about!"

"Yes you do!" the nails dug deeper into Andromeda's neck.

"No!" with a vicious shove, she pushed her sister off her and onto the floor, which in retrospect was a terrible decision, because as soon as she got to her feet, Bellatrix pulled out her wand from her pocket, and brandished it at Andromeda.

"_You_," she said, "were at a pub- a _public house_, where everyone could see you, with a _filthy, dirty, __**Hufflepuff**_Mudblood!"

Andromeda raised her own wand in order to defend herself – she was not going to end up sprawled on the cold flagstones of the Entrance Hall, drowning in her own blood, because she went on _one date_ with Ted Tonks.

"Yes," she said quietly and calmly, "I was in a pub with Ted Tonks. We were talking about Charms, because I'm falling behind, and he was going to tutor me. I am not," she was lying through her teeth now, "going to see him alone again. I asked Professor Flitwick to give me another tutor."

"And who," Bellatrix jabbed the wand towards her sister, and Andromeda tried not to flinch, "is this new tutor?"

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_- "Carrie," she said wildly, and Bellatrix cackled manically.

"Liar!" she shrieked, "You're a liar, Andromeda! Carrie couldn't tutor a Kneazle!"

"Bella…"

"Tell me the truth!"

"_Bellatrix_…"

"_Stuepfy!_"

She flew across the hall and landed with a thud. Her head cracked, and she could feel something dripping down her neck.

"Ladies!" came a cry from the doorway. Professors Slughorn and McGonagall were stood in the entrance to the Great Hall, wands raised.

Bellatrix did not move, and Andromeda struggled to heave herself up. Her vision went double, and her hands, normally so still and calm, began to shake.

"She fell," Bellatrix said coldly, "she fell and she hurt her head."

"_Lower your wand_," McGongall hissed, but Bellatrix did not.

"Bella…" Slughorn said, trying to coax her down. Andromeda's eyes kept swimming, and the wet patch at the back of her neck was growing larger.

"She's a Mudblood whore," Bellatrix spat, and just as McGonagall opened her mouth to respond, she stormed down the corridor that led to the dungeons, spitting a mixture of swear words and incantations as she went.

"Horace," McGonagall said in a low whisper, "go after her. I will deal with the other Miss Black."

"She's out of control, Minerva," Slughorn murmured, "I've tried to talk to her, but…since the death of her father…"

"Professor," the Transfiguration professor replied curtly, "I don't want excuses. The headmaster will need to speak to her. This behaviour can't go on."

Slughorn mumbled something incoherent, and Andromeda let out a whimper because the blood was trickling down her arm now, and the Potions master gasped.

"Minerva!"

McGonagall made a clucking noise, and rushed over to the crumpled body of the eldest Black sister.

The last thing Andromeda could consciously remember was a cry of "GET POPPY!"

* * *

When she woke up, Carrie had her feet on the bed, and was flicking through _Witch Weekly_ and humming absent mindedly.

"Ca…"

"Oh darling, you're awake!" Carrie exclaimed, "No, no, don't sit up, stay there – look, I brought you _Witch Weekly_!"

"Thanks, Ca…" she croaked. Her head still ached a dull kind of ache, and she could still hear Bellatrix's shriek ringing in her ears.

"Your sister's got detention, by the way – I think your mum went bonkers when they threatened to expel her, she's been and gone, by the way – and Narcissa dropped round a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, which was nice of her. She had to go, homework, or stalking Lucius Malfoy or something, but more importantly! Celestina Warbeck and that really good looking Quidditch journalist split up."

"Woah, there Carrietta…" Andromeda yawned a little, "Calm down."

Carrie handed her the magazine, and Andromeda smiled weakly.

"I took notes for you in Transfiguration _and _Charms. You've been out for three hours. Oh, and the whole school knows. About, uh, y'know, _this_."

"Brilliant."

"Kingsley sends his love?"

Andromeda sank back onto the pillows, and a shuffle from Madam Pomfrey's office caused Carrie to jerk her feet off the bed in fear of causing the matron's wrath.

"I send it back," she muttered, "Good old Kingsley."

"He chucked his girlfriend," Carrie replied happily, "so that's nice."

"Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine. He'll get another one. He always does. And my mum says you can come and stay for Christmas, if you want?"

Andromeda closed her eyes, and murmured; "Mother would never let me…"

"Well then she's a spoilsport, isn't she?"

Andromeda nodded, eyes still shut. Carrie smiled sadly.

"Sleep tight, kid."

"Mmmm…"

* * *

When Andromeda awoke the second time that day, Narcissa and Bellatrix were sat beside her. Both of them had their lips pressed together in a long thin line like their mother did whenever Andromeda spoke out of turn.

"Hello," she mumbled, wiping the dust out of her eyes, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We're worried about you-" Narcissa began, but Bellatrix slapped her arm, and she shut up like a clam.

"You're not to see the Mudblood anymore, Andromeda."

"Sorry?"

Bellatrix took Andromeda's hand in hers, and to an outsider, it looked like she was comforting her. But, of course, she wasn't. She dug her long nails into her sister's hand, as she muttered menacingly; "_You're not to see the Mudblood again, alright?_"

The pain was excruciating, for Bella's nails were sharper than the talons of eagles. Somewhere in the back of her brain, Andromeda could hear Ted's laugh, and feel his chapped lips on hers, but she blocked it out, and replied with as much venom as she could muster.

"_Alright_."

Bellatrix dropped her hand as quickly as she had picked it up. There were tiny little digs in the pale flesh, and the skin had been broken by Andromeda's thumb. No one said anything, until Andromeda cleared her throat.

"Sort that out," she said, "they'll ask too many questions."

"Why can't _you_?" came the bitter reply.

"_Because_, Bellatrix, it's _my hand _that's been that's been mauled."

"I did not _maul_ your hand!"

"_Sort it out, so help me Merlin_!"

Bellatrix pulled a face, but got out her wand. "Promise you won't see that boy again?"

"I promise."

"Swear on Cissy's life?"

"Why my life?" Narcissa piped up, but Bellatrix batted her away, and she fell silent.

"I swear on _my __**own**__ life_." Andromeda hissed, because there was blood dripping from her knuckles now. Bellatrix smiled a faux-sweet smile, and placed her wand on Andromeda's hand, and muttered an incantation. The skin around the eldest Black's knuckles healed instantly, and Andromeda sighed as the pain eased.

"I don't know why," Bellatrix said briskly, "you're not satisfied with pure blood boys, 'Meda."

"It's not- look, Bella," Andromeda sunk back onto the pillows. The skin around her fingers was still pink and tender. "I said I won't see him anymore, can't you just let it go?"

"Bellatrix just wants to know _why_," Narcissa murmured, "that's all."

"Oh, don't you have a detention to get to?" Andromeda snapped. Her head was throbbing.

Bellatrix made a noise like a cat that had just been stepped on, and clambered to her feet.

"Come along, Cissy," she hissed, and Narcissa stood, eyes darting between her sisters. _Poor darling_, Andromeda thought, _it can't be easy._

For a single second, it looked like she was going to stay, and Andromeda's heart soared. But it did not last long, and Narcissa practically stumbled over herself to leave with Bellatrix.

With sisters like hers, she thought bitterly, who needs enemies?

* * *

Tony had a competition going with Dorcas Meadowes about who could fit the most Cauldron Cakes in their mouth, and so far Dorcas was winning. Most of Hufflepuff were watching, and Ted was sat on the sofa across the room from them, reading _The Picture of Dorian Grey _and smirking every time he heard Tony make groans of pain as he shoved another cake in his mouth. He wasn't really reading _Dorian Grey _though – he was thinking about Andromeda, and the way her hand felt in his, and wondering when it was acceptable to ask for a second date. Where would they go, though, on this second date? Not around the castle, surely? That would be too obvious, they would be seen if they went around the castle. Even the grounds were risky…but what about where they'd listened to his records last time, that secret space between the greenhouses and the window of the Hufflepuff Common Room? Would she be alright with that? Would she mind that all he could offer her was a patch of dry brown grass and an enchanted record player? She deserved diamonds, that girl. She deserved diamonds and dancing and to be treated like a princess, and all he had was glam rock and how-many-of-this-thing-can-you-eat-in-a-minute competitions. He couldn't understand how he'd managed to pull her - or maybe she pulled him, he wasn't sure.

There was a roar from Tony and Dorcas' settee, and Ted saw his best mate punch the air victoriously. He had won, obviously, and the tiny little first years applauded like it was the greatest thing they'd ever seen. Dorcas seemed to be taking her defeat well, clapping along with the eleven year olds and finishing the last of the cakes with a huge grin.

"Did you see that, Teddy boy?" Tony roared, "I won, did you see?"

"I did indeed," Ted nodded, "I'm very proud of you."

"D'you want a cake?" Dorcas called over to them, but Ted shook his head.

"Nah, you're alright, Dor. Thanks, though!"

Dorcas beamed at him, and he gave her a mock salute in return.

"I reckon she fancies you," Tony told him, flinging himself down beside Ted. _Dorian Grey _lay abandoned on the arm of the sofa.

"Dorcas? Nah, she doesn't. And even if she did, I'm taken."

"What, by mystery girl?" Tony Summoned a liquorice wand from the table of treats the seventh years had laid out (_the celebration? It was a Wednesday; they'd got through half the week_) "Yeah, but does mystery girl put out?"

"Christ, Tone," Ted groaned, "you know that not everything's about sex, don't you?"

"Course it is!" Tony declared, "Everything's about sex or death!"

Ted mumbled something about honour and loyalty and love, and Tony cackled. Dorcas wandered over, her little legs swamped by her robes. She sat on the other side of Tony, and her feet did not touch the ground.

"What's about sex or death?"

"Everything, apparently," Ted said, trying to keep the exasperation in his voice to a bare minimum.

"Well it is," Dorcas replied, "It's one of the great human truths, or something. Whoever you are, you're probably going to want to have sex one day, and you're going to die."

"Thanks Dorcas."

"Pleasure."

The three of them sat in silence for a while, Dorcas chomping on her cake and Tony peeling his liquorice wand apart. Ted attempted to read, but he couldn't stop thinking about Andromeda, and what she thought about whether there was more to life than just sex and death. He wanted to know her opinions and thoughts on things, what she liked and didn't like, and the only way he could find that out was by seeing her again, wasn't it? He just wanted to know everything about her, and for her to know everything about him.

"Absolute nightmare at lunch," Dorcas said, and Ted shook himself out of his reverie, "The Entrance Hall was blocked for an age because the Black sisters got into a huge fight, and apparently the oldest one – the one that's in our year- got put in the hospital wing. It's awful."

Tony let out a low whistle, and Ted felt like the bottom of his stomach had just dropped into his shoes.

"What happened?" he stuttered, trying to keep his pounding heart from betraying his feelings.

"I don't know- I don't think anyone does- but Alice says she's in the hospital wing, and it was the middle one- y'know, the mad one?- that put her there."

"_Blimey_," said Tony, and Ted's heart skipped several beats.

"Wait, so – so her sister put her in hospital?"

Dorcas nodded. "Yup. Proper bonkers, isn't it?"

He nodded, and licked his lips. His mouth had suddenly become incredibly dry. How bad was it? Was it because of him? And if it was, then was she going to keep seeing him? He didn't think he could bear it if they split up, if he didn't get to kiss her again.

"So what's happened to her then, the girl?"

"Which one?"

Ted's head was thumping, and he got to his feet. He hoped that his hands would stop shaking before anyone noticed. He felt nauseous.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, "I've got- uh, I promised I'd lend this to, uh – Amos Diggory, I think, I've got…"

Dorcas and Tony did not seem to notice or care, so engaged were they in their conversation about the fate of Bellatrix Black.

He stumbled out of the common room, knocking several barrels over as he did so, and clambered up the stairs – he had to get out, to breathe proper air and to clear his head.

"Mr Tonks!" came a call from the end of the corridor; Professor Sprout. Ted liked her, because she was fair and didn't care whether your mum was a socialite or a barmaid. All her students were equal, and she treated them with the same amount of care and attention.

"Mr Tonks!" she called again, and he stopped still, and put his head in his hands. It _ached_; the thought of Andromeda in that hospital wing on her own because of him.

"Mr Tonks, where are you going?"

He turned slowly, hands still clasped to the top of his head. Professor Sprout smiled a little sadly at him.

"Mr Tonks?" she asked, quietly and calmly as he began to shuffle down the stairs, towards her, "Where are you going?"

"The hospital wing," he confessed, "my girlfriend's in there."

It was the first time he'd ever referred to Andromeda as his girlfriend, and the word felt heavy on his tongue. It seemed strange, because it didn't cover half of what he felt about her. _The possible love of my life is in the hospital wing_ sounded too big. He didn't know what to call her. _For now_, he thought, _I'll stick with girlfriend_.

"The hospital wing will be closed now, Ted," Sprout told him softly, and he nodded slowly. A strangled sob seemed to be creeping its way up his throat and he tried his best to swallow it down.

"Perhaps you can see her tomorrow?"

He nodded again. The sob was forcing its way into his mouth now, and his eyes were horribly dry and _God_, he needed to see her. "Yeah I-" and then the sob ripped open his mouth and forced its way out into the world, and he punched his knee with pain.

"_Jesus_ – oh Professor, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm-" he was babbling, and he knew it, and the look of sympathy in Sprout's eyes made it nearly a thousand times worse. He just wanted to _see _her, dammit, to hold her hands and look into her eyes and tell her he wouldn't let anyone touch her again.

"She'll still be there tomorrow, Ted," his Head of House said calmly, "You can go and see her then."

He nodded, and stood up fully, for the force of the cry he had screeched had caused him to double over in pain. Sprout hummed sympathetically, and walked with him back down the corridor to where the barrels were.

"You like her a lot, don't you?" she asked quietly, and Ted nodded.

"Sometimes…I think I like her too much. That it's not right to only want to spend your time with one person. You know?"

Professor Sprout patted his arm affectionately. "Don't be silly, Ted. That's what love is."

* * *

Andromeda could hear the owls call to each other in the night, and she had a brilliant view of the massive beech tree by the Black Lake (_she was 99% sure that the lake was named after her family, but she wasn't sure_). She was thinking about Ted, mostly, and about the way his big hand warmed hers. He was so lovely, dear Ted with his pointed collars and his glam rock records, and she was sure – she was certain, in fact- that he would find another, better girl to love, or at least like as much as he seemed to like her. It would not take him long, he would soon forget her. They only went on one date, didn't they? And she would forget him. Eventually. It would be hard, because she did like him so very much, but it was better a broken heart than a broken neck, always. If she carried on the way she was going, Bellatrix was going to kill her. She'd made that perfectly clear at lunch time. And Andromeda didn't want to die like that. It would be a waste, wouldn't it? To die for a boy? Because that's all he was, wasn't he? She wasn't even sure if she could call him her boyfriend. One date wasn't enough to call someone your boyfriend. The word implied wandering down corridors holding hands, sitting together at dinner and hanging out with each other's friends. And they'd only done one of those things. She didn't even know who his friends _were_. Weren't Hufflepuffs friends with everyone?

See, this was why she had to break it off with him now. For starters, it was easier now, because they hadn't said anything that would make it harder, and secondly, if she didn't, word would get round to her mother, and her uncle and aunt, and then Bellatrix would be the least of their problems. She knew what she would have to do. It would hurt, but they would both live. They would live apart, but at least they would be alive. It was a mantra she repeated to herself as she fell asleep, the owls hooting as a lullaby.

* * *

"What're you doing in your free?" Dorcas asked him over breakfast the next morning, "Did you sort all that business with Amos out?"

"Mmmm, what?" Ted mumbled, preoccupied with buttering his toast.

"I said," Dorcas repeated, "what're you doing in your free?"

"In my what?"

"_Blimey_, have you been at Tony's stash? Your free, Ted, the free period we've got first thing this morning?"

"Oh right," _Go and see Andromeda_, he thought, but what he said was; "Yeah, I'll probably just go and do some work in the library, y'know?"

Dorcas pouted like a small child. "You massive square, Ted Tonks! You massive, massive square!"

"Well what are _you _doing that's so rock'n'roll then, Field?"

Dorcas laughed. "Ah, I'll probably just go and hang out with Tony behind the greenhouses."

"Cliché."

"Should've-been-a-Ravenclaw."

"Ooh, harsh," he laughed, and clambered up from the table.

Across the room, Narcissa and Bellatrix sat in stony silence, faces pale and hands clasped together on the table. Bellatrix's nails seemed to be making grooves on Narcissa's knuckles, and Ted shuddered to think of what she did to Andromeda.

"I'll see you later, Dor," he said to her, and she smiled up at him.

* * *

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four."

Madam Pomfrey clucked like a mother hen, and waved her wand in the direction of the clipboard and quill that was hovering beside her. The quill made a scribble, and Andromeda looked down at her hands. She felt like she was being interrogated.

"No lasting effects – concussion is very easy to treat. Try not to fight with your sister anymore, won't you?"

Andromeda nodded, still staring at her long, thin fingers.

"Is Shacklebolt walking you to your lesson?"

"I asked her not to…"

"Hmmm. Well. Don't be late for your next lesson."

"I've got a free, Madam."

The matron clucked again, but she didn't say anything.

"Don't overexcite yourself," she advised softly, "and stay out of trouble."

"I'll try my best."

And then she left, and Andromeda was alone. Very slowly, she got to her feet, legs shaking slightly. She had no idea what Madam Pomfrey meant by no lasting effects; she'd always have to carry this with her, wouldn't she?

He was half jogging down the corridor as she closed the door of the hospital wing behind her, and at first she almost forgot what she had to do. But then, as he grabbed her hand and panted; "_Bloody hell, you're alive_!" she remembered, and her heart broke a little.

"Ted…"

"Was it me? Is that what it was? Because if it was, then…then I'll do something, honest, or we can just keep us a secret for a little while longer, honestly, I don't mind, I just want you safe, I just-"

"Don't flatter yourself," she said coolly, and he dropped her hand in shock. It was like a Healing Potion, wasn't it? You just had to drink it all at once.

"It was nothing to do with you, Tonks," she told him icily, trying to forget the feeling of his lips on hers, "It had nothing to do with you at all. My sister has no idea we saw each other last week. It was other, family – other, _more important_ things that we fought over. It won't happen again."

He looked heartbroken, like he knew what she was going to say. There were tears in his eyes, and she felt sick to her stomach.

"And neither will we," she continued heartlessly, "We can't happen again. Sorry. I shouldn't have led you on like I did."

"You didn't- what? What are you talking about? You didn't lead me on, don't be ridiculous, I thought-" He grabbed at her hands again, but she pulled them away. She couldn't bear it. _Better a broken heart than a broken neck_, she kept repeating to herself. It didn't make much difference though; it still hurt, like a cut that wouldn't stop bleeding.

"I thought we _meant something_," he whispered, voice cracking. She wanted to kiss him, but she couldn't, of course, because if she did then she wouldn't ever be able to stop.

"We meant nothing," she replied coldly, even though her heart was breaking, "I'm going to my Common Room now. Please don't try to talk to me again."

He shook his head, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, and then she said, voice low and full as much passion as she could muster; "_Please_."

He cocked his head to one side slightly, like he was confused, and looked deep into her eyes. It was just for a moment, just a moment before he looked away like her gaze was burning him, but it was in that moment that she thought (and would think forever) that he first properly came to fully understand her. "Fine," he croaked, "have it your way."

And then he turned on his heel and left her in the corridor, all alone again.


End file.
